The Daring Truth
by JamiW
Summary: This is not part of any series - just an early season six character study.  All BA.
1. Chapter 1

**Alex POV**

* * *

><p>A near-death experience can change a person's outlook.<p>

It can make things that once seemed impossible or out of reach suddenly appear attainable.

Or at the very least, it can take away the fear of trying.

Because once a person has looked death in the eye, everything else is much less scary.

My view of my own mortality came at three a.m. in my own home when Jo Gage clocked me in the head with a wooden mallet and then hauled me off to her basement dungeon.

There were several hours where I truly thought that I was going to die.

I thought about my parents and my siblings…my nieces and nephews…and of course, I thought about Bobby.

I stood on my toes, mostly held dangling by my hands from a hook in the ceiling, and I wondered if I would ever see my partner again.

And then, as I'd tried to block out my fear of what might happen to me, I thought about him in very unpartnerly ways.

I wondered if I'd ever hear the deep timbre of his voice or smell the alluring scent of his cologne.

I wondered why I'd never hugged him before.

Never kissed him.

Never once let him know how much I cared.

I promised myself then and there that if I made it out of there alive, I was going to change.

I was going to be more open with him and insist that he do the same.

I was going to banish that unspoken agreement we had that involved no touching.

I _wanted_ to touch him.

I wanted to be touched by him.

And really, was that such a bad thing?

Not too long after my epiphany, I managed to escape.

Bobby came to visit me once while he was still hunting down the perpetrator.

He'd been frazzled and overwrought and I'd been foggy on drugs and exhausted.

Not exactly the best time for life-changing declarations.

He'd asked me a little about what had happened, hoping to glean some valuable information that would lead him to my kidnapper…to the person who had killed at least three women by this point and it was only by the grace of God that I wasn't number four.

I told him what I could, and then he was gone.

_"I'll be back,"_ he'd promised. _"As soon as I catch him."_

It didn't take very long.

And it wasn't a him.

It was Jo Gage.

The idea that he was going to blame himself did not escape me.

"You didn't cause this," I reminded him.

"Maybe not, but I didn't stop it either."

"Yes, you did. You stopped her from hurting anyone else," I reminded him.

He looked at me dubiously as he leaned back in the hard plastic chair.

An hour before, he'd knocked on the door, cautiously as though he might not be welcome.

He'd shyly entered the room grasping a small flower arrangement.

_"Is it okay if I…can I come in?"_ he'd asked.

_"Of course,"_ I replied.

_"You look…better,"_ he said with a tired smile.

He set the flowers down on a table across the room and then came and sat in the chair next to me.

After a moment's hesitation, he stood back up and leaned over, placing a light kiss on my cheek.

_"How are you feeling?"_ he'd asked, pretending as though he hadn't just melted my heart with his sweetness.

_"Better,"_ I'd replied simply. _"Tell me what happened."_

So we'd spent the next hour discussing the outcome of the case, but then, when he sat back in the chair and reached up to loosen his tie as though he was preparing to stay for awhile, we shifted topics.

"We can talk more about the case, if you want," he said, pulling the silk tie from around his neck and tucking it into his jacket pocket. Then he looked at me with exhausted yet intense eyes and added, "Or we can talk about anything else."

It wasn't like Bobby to open the door to personal conversation. I mean, sure, we've discussed our private lives before. But not very often. And usually it was because we were stuck on some stake out or driving to some far away place and I would start asking him questions until he'd finally open up.

But that night, the night in the hospital, he'd opened up to me by choice.

It was like a gift.

I thought that maybe my near-death experience had changed him, too.

I was out of work after that incident, but not for very long. During that time, Bobby and I got closer. He came to my apartment a few times after he got off of work, and we'd have dinner together or watch a movie or just talk.

It was _really_ nice.

I wondered briefly if maybe he was just working through his feelings of guilt.

Because even though we were spending more time together and he was opening up, there was still this distance between us.

We each stayed firmly on our respective side of the line.

And I hadn't forgotten about my promise to myself, but it didn't seem quite so pressing once I was no longer at risk of dying any minute.

It's kind of like swearing off alcohol while in the midst of a nasty hangover. It seems like a good idea, but then the nausea goes away and the headache subsides, and then the next night you find yourself with a bourbon in your hands.

My first case back was that of Ray Wiznesky.

That was the case where Bobby had _his_ near-death experience.

If that case had happened at any other time during our partnership, I would've been mad as hell at him for sending me out of that room.

But I wasn't a hundred percent yet and he knew it.

He was protecting me from facing my own mortality for a second time in less than a month.

The strange thing was that it was almost harder to be the _other_ one.

I didn't want to be outside the door, listening while my partner's life was at risk.

And I got a little bit of a sense of what Bobby must have gone through when it had been me who was in danger.

But what did that say about us?

We loved each other so much that it physically hurt more to see the other one in danger than ourselves, and yet we'd never even come close to uttering those words.

Honestly, it was kind of messed up.

"Are you okay?" I asked him as we drove away from Ray's house.

He wasn't. Anyone could see that.

So I took him home with me.

And I don't mean like _that_.

But we went to my place and I fixed us some coffee and we sat and talked.

We talked a little bit about the elephant in the room.

Our mutual recent brushes with death, I mean.

Not the fact that we loved each other.

And I know...it was very possible that it was just me who was in love, but for the most part, I'd convinced myself that the feeling was mutual.

Unless I made a move and he rejected me, I didn't figure there was any harm in maintaining my little fantasy.

That night, he also talked a little more about his mom.

"I wanted to tell you," he said. "But you've had so much going on…"

"You don't have to censor your life for me, Bobby," I told him. "Whatever's going on, I want to know."

He wouldn't make eye contact with me, so I reached out and put my hand on top of his, where it was resting on the couch.

He shifted his gaze to our hands and so did I.

My heart pounded as I waited for his reaction.

If he pulled away, I was pretty sure I'd never find the courage to make another move in that direction.

But he didn't.

Instead, he turned his hand over and clasped his fingers through mine.

And then we talked some more.

He stayed on my couch that night.

It wasn't the first time. He'd slept there the first few nights after I got out of the hospital, but then I'd insisted that he go home.

"_You don't have to stand guard,"_ I'd told him. _"I'm fine."_

"_Maybe I'm not doing it for you,"_ he'd argued. _"Maybe I'm doing it for me."_

So I'd let him stay that night, too, but then the next day I'd told him that I needed for things to get back to normal.

I needed to recover from that incident without using him as a crutch.

But that night after Ray had held him at gunpoint, I offered for him to stay.

"I thought you didn't like me sleeping on your couch," he said, but with a hint of a smile.

I desperately wanted to shout, "_You're right, I don't – I want you in my bed!"_

But I didn't.

"I just needed to know that I could be okay by myself," I countered.

So he'd stayed and then the next day we went to work and we slipped back into our routine.

We worked a few cases. We had one where two brothers were killed. The father showed open favoritism of one of the sons, and we watched in amazement as he perpetuated that bias to the next generation as well.

"I know it's natural for a parent to have a favorite, but that's a little much," Bobby said to me as we filled out the paperwork on that case.

"I don't know," I replied. "I'm my parents' favorite."

He looked up at me and said, "You are?"

"Of course. Although I'm pretty sure they've told each of us the same thing."

He chuckled at me and I was glad to see a smile from him.

"You're my favorite partner," he said. "Does that count for anything?"

"Yes, it does," I agreed, and then I forced my focus back onto my paperwork instead of on the warm feeling that was filtering through me.

The softness of his gaze when he said the words and the sincerity behind them…

"Do you want to get something to eat tonight?" he asked me after a few minutes.

"Sure. That sounds great."

So we'd gone to dinner and how sad is it that he's the best date I've had in years, even though he would never consider himself as my date?

Pretty sad.

And ever since that night in my apartment, there's been no more hand-holding.

So despite our date-that-wasn't-a-date, we were once again back to our rules.

The next morning, I got to work a few minutes before Bobby. He usually arrived first, but we'd made a bet at dinner the night before and he lost, so he was tasked with bringing me coffee this morning.

"Is your passport up to date?" Ross asked me as he breezed past my desk. He paused a few feet away and then turned around to look at me. "And where is your partner?"

"Uh…he'll be here any minute," I replied as I surreptitiously glanced at the clock.

It wasn't even eight o'clock yet, but Ross had the ability to fabricate trouble for Bobby. I wasn't sure why he disliked him so much, but in turn, it made _me_ dislike Ross.

"You wanted to know about my passport?" I asked when Ross continued to stare at Bobby's empty chair.

"Right. Simon Henry Fife. Does that name ring a bell?"

"He recently confessed to killing Amberleigh Harner back in '92. His statement is questionable."

"That's right."

"So…passport?"

"Fife is about to be picked up by Vietnamese police. I need you and your partner on a plane today."

He turned around and continued walking towards his office.

As though telling me that I'd be flying to the Far East today was a normal occurrence.

As though I didn't need any additional information.

"To Vietnam?" I asked as I followed him.

And actually, this was why he'd walked away.

It was a classic power move and I found it extremely annoying and yet here I was, going along with it.

I was chasing after my captain like a lost puppy.

"Considering that's where he is…" he said drolly as he sat down. I came to a stop in front of his desk and looked at him questioningly. "Look, Eames…he's going to be in custody over there. We need him over here. I want the two of you to go get him. What's the problem?"

"There's no problem," I said, shaking my head slightly.

"Good. When your partner gets here, confirm that his passport is up to date and then the two of you need to go home and pack. Your flight leaves in three hours."

He picked up a file folder and handed it to me.

"The travel arrangements are detailed in here," he said. "I'll see you on Friday."

"Friday? It's Tuesday."

"Right. And you'll notice that your flight lands in Ho Chi Minh City on Wednesday night and the return flight has you back at JFK on Friday morning."

I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do less than spend the next four days on an airplane.

Although at least I was going with Bobby.

"You'll have to do your sleeping on the plane," Ross was saying. "None of the layovers allow for time to get a hotel, but I'll make it up to you two after you wrap up this case. So go get him, bring him back, and document his confession. This case is already fourteen years old. Let's not let it get a week older."

He picked up another file on his desk and opened it up, effectively dismissing me.

"Yes, sir," I answered, doing my best to sound like I meant it.

Like I said, I wasn't a fan of Captain Ross. His first week on the job, he'd tried to cozy up to me, as though maybe we had things in common and he thought that it would be him and me against Bobby.

As if that would ever happen.

So far, I didn't have much use for him.

He was no Deakins, that was for sure.

I left his office and went back to my desk just as Bobby was getting off the elevator He had two cups of coffee in his hands and a half-smile on his face.

"That's the last time I make a bet with you," he said as he handed me one of the cups. "You should've seen the line."

"Oh, I've seen the line. Why do you think I made that the bet?" I replied.

"What's that?" he asked, tipping his head toward the file still in my other hand. "Does Ross have something for us?"

"Uh huh. Please tell me that your passport is current."

I really hoped that it was because I had the sinking feeling that if it wasn't, Ross would be polling the room, seeing who else might be eligible to go with me. And I wasn't going to embark on a forty-eight hour journey with just anyone.

"Yeah, I'm up to date. Why?"

I flashed him the plane tickets and gave him a smile.

"I've always wanted to honeymoon in Vietnam. Are you up for it?"

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Alex POV**

* * *

><p>We spent the first leg of our flight going over the old case file.<p>

"What do you think?" I asked him. "Is Fife for real?"

"It's hard to argue with it, considering some of the facts he mentioned in his emails, but…I don't know."

"Uh huh," I agreed. "I'm curious to meet him in person. I find it odd that he suddenly wants to confess after fourteen years."

Bobby thoughtfully hummed his agreement, but then as the announcement was made that we were on approach at LAX, he tucked the file back into his binder.

"It should make for an interesting flight home," he replied.

"We have to get there first," I reminded him.

We bumped into each other as we buckled our seatbelts, and I felt silly for the jolt of electricity that went through me at the contact. Even more so when a fluttering feeling took residence in my stomach as he leaned over to talk quietly to me.

"I'm going to find a way to get us into first class on the next flight," he said in a near whisper. "I am _not_ built for coach."

He made good on his word.

The layover in Los Angeles was short, but while we were there, Bobby flirted mercilessly with the girl at the United Airlines desk, and he got us a free upgrade to first class.

"I can't believe you did that," I told him as I settled back in the cushy seat.

"Did what?" he asked innocently.

I raised an eyebrow at him, but he continued to look at me with question.

"Do you honestly not realize your effect on women?" I asked him.

He should be used to my directness by now, but apparently that, combined with the overt compliment, threw him for a loop. He actually blushed a little and shook his head.

"My effect on women? Eames, I'm in my upper forties, and I haven't had a serious relationship in over a decade. I can't even remember my last date...I'm pretty sure that I have no effect on women."

"And yet here we are in first class," I replied, struggling to mask the mixture of pleasure and disappointment at his declaration.

No serious relationships…no dates…but what did he consider me? A buddy?

_A partner_, I reminded myself practically.

"Would you rather be back in coach?"

"No way," I answered.

Although honestly, I hadn't minded the close quarters.

Sitting with Bobby's leg pressed up against mine for six hours hadn't been a hardship. Unless you count the fact that I'd had to pretend to be unaffected.

"You're going to do that on the return flight, too, right?" I added.

"Absolutely. Unless the clerk is a man," he clarified in a conspiratorial voice. "And then it'll be up to you."

"If it's up to me, we'll end up in the back near the bathroom," I said cynically. His response to me was cut short by the flight attendant.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked as she stepped up next to Bobby. "Or something for your wife?"

"Yes, we'd both like coffee, please," he told her, and as she moved away, he turned his head to look at me, and once again I felt extremely unprofessional.

He was stretched out in the seat, with his head leaning back, and his eyes had a mischievous glint to them.

He was looking at me like we shared some deep, dark secret.

"Wife?" I asked in amusement.

"An easy assumption," he replied casually. "Besides, you said this was your dream honeymoon, right?"

"I hope you know I was kidding."

"Where'd you go with Joe?"

His question caught me by surprise.

I mean, we'd talked about Joe.

On those nights when we'd gotten together for the sole purpose of casual conversation, he'd asked me a few questions about my former life as a married woman.

And of course, I could've guessed that he'd be curious. It was a topic I normally avoided, but since we'd started opening the door for personal discussions, it wasn't surprising that Bobby asked about him.

But here we were, on a plane, on the _job_, and he was asking me about Joe.

"We've got eleven hours before another layover in Tokyo, and I've already memorized the entire case file," he said in answer to my unspoken question. "Maybe we can pretend like we're off the clock for awhile, huh?"

"Okay," I agreed.

"Until we get to Ho Chi Minh City," he clarified.

"Sounds like a good idea to me."

And it really did, because once we had Fife in custody, we'd have to be all business, so it wouldn't hurt to make the trip out as enjoyable as possible.

We were both quiet for a few minutes while the attendant served our coffee. I found myself idly wishing that I'd ordered something stronger since we were going to be delving into a personal discussion.

Maybe I would the next time she came back.

"Joe and I didn't go anywhere," I said at last, since I knew that Bobby would never ask the question again.

That's how it was with us.

Anything was open for questioning, but neither of us had to answer. And once a question was ignored, it was off the table.

That was just another one of those rules.

I was starting to think that we had way too many of them.

"You didn't have a honeymoon?"

"He couldn't get the time off of work. And really, we didn't have the money to take a trip. It was something we said we'd get around to, but we never did."

I sipped on my coffee while I waited for the follow-up question.

Bobby _always_ had follow-up questions.

Although I guess I did too.

I could write it off to the fact that we're detectives, but honestly I think it's because we're both so starved for information about the other.

I mean, we've worked together for five years.

As far as I'm concerned, I should know the make and model of his first car, and the name of his date for the senior prom, and the age at which he lost his virginity.

And at this point, I was only one for three.

He'd driven a 1964 Plymouth Duster while he was in high school. One he lovingly says was held together with a wire coat hanger and a bungee cord.

It had taken three glasses of scotch for me to pull that information from him and that had just happened two weeks ago.

"Do you miss him?" Bobby asked and I'd been so lost in thought that it took me a moment to catch up.

"I…well…that's not really a yes or no question."

"Okay," he said, at once willing to let me off the hook.

That was our routine, too. We didn't apply any pressure to each other.

"I miss having someone," I said after taking a deep breath. "It was nice to come home from work and have someone with whom I could share the day, you know?"

I met his gaze and he nodded in understanding. For some reason, I felt compelled to elaborate.

"I mean, he was a nice guy and he was a good husband. We had our ups and downs, but we were really just getting started so it's hard to say how things would've gone. I'm sorry that he had to die so young, but I can't really say that I miss him specifically. I've been without him longer than I was with him. That part of my life almost seems like a dream now. And I don't mean because it was perfect or anything. I just mean in the sense that I have to work to remember some of the details…and it almost feels like it happened to someone else. Like it's just something I heard about secondhand."

I was almost embarrassed for having said so much, but then Bobby put his hand over top of mine. It was just like I'd done to him that night at my apartment, only this time my hand was resting on my leg, so when he covered my hand with his own, his fingers were touching my thigh.

I was sure that he hadn't meant for it to be such an intimate gesture, but I wasn't going to let him back away. I turned my hand and grabbed onto his.

"That had to be so hard for you," he said, his voice a quiet rumble, adding to the tenderness of the moment.

"It was, for a long time. And then things just got better. I had to quit thinking about what could've been and move forward with my life."

"But you still haven't found anyone else," he stated.

_Yes, I have_, I wanted to say. _I just don't have the courage to say anything_.

"I'm content with the way things are," I said instead.

"Are you?"

"Mostly," I amended. We were treading in dangerous waters here, so after a moment's hesitation, I decided I'd better change the subject. "So tell me how your mom's doing."

We held hands until dinner was served. It was kind of like a silent reminder that we were there for each other. Because until dinner, our discussions were heavy. Serious topics with deep undertones.

After dinner, I changed the direction.

"Okay, we spent the first couple of hours depressing the hell out of each other," I said with a smile. "How about we do something else for the rest of the trip?"

"What did you have in mind?" he asked as a smile played on his lips.

I love that look that he gets, the one where it seems as though he's ready to laugh at any moment.

I don't see it nearly enough. Maybe I'd have to work on that.

"Truth or dare," I said in an effort to get a full smile from him.

"Truth or dare? How old are we?"

And despite his words, I knew I'd piqued his interest.

"Okay fine," I said dismissively. "Watch a movie or something. Whatever. We've only got five hours left."

He sat quietly for a minute while I rummaged through the selection of in-flight magazines.

"Truth or dare, huh?" he asked at last. "I suppose that might be interesting."

"Well, we'll have to play without the dare part, of course."

"No dares?" he asked. "Come on, Eames. What fun is that?"

"What kind of dares can we do on a plane?"

When I said it, I was being serious, but it came across as somewhat of a challenge.

"Huh," he said thoughtfully, although he was now smiling broadly. "I don't know…I can think of a few."

I laughed at his suggestiveness, loving that I'd pulled out this side of him. He had it in him to be like this…playful, flirtatious, funny…he just didn't often do it.

And honestly, I was practically vibrating with anticipation just from curiosity of what kind of dares he'd come up with on a plane.

Maybe I _did_ want to play the full version.

I wouldn't mind tossing a few dares out there myself.

"I don't want to get kicked off the plane," I replied practically. "I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to have to explain that one to Ross."

"What kind of dares are you talking about, Eames?" he teased. "I just meant annoying the flight attendants with the call button or something."

"Uh huh," I answered in disbelief. "Still…"

"So we'll save the dare portion for another time," he stated, adjusting himself in his seat so that he was partially facing me. "After this case."

"Deal," I agreed quickly. "So for now, it's just truth."

"It's going to be a boring game, Eames," he said. "You already know everything about me."

"I know next to nothing about you," I argued.

"Go ahead," he told me. "Lay it on me. What do you want to know?"

We went back and forth for more than two hours, each time digging just a little deeper, getting just a little more personal.

It was…interesting and exciting and…enticing.

The more I learned about him, the more I wanted to know.

But the one thing I avoided was asking him how he felt about me.

I wasn't sure, in that case, that the truth would be such a good thing. I thought maybe it was better to keep the hope alive rather than face reality and learn that this was going to be the extent of our relationship.

And really, good friends was better than just work partners. And that's what we were now…that's what we'd evolved into.

I would take what I could get.

We still had several hours to go before our arrival in Tokyo and I just couldn't hold my eyes open any longer.

"I'm going to have to take nap," I told him apologetically.

"That's fine. Maybe I will, too."

He wouldn't. I don't know how he went so long without sleep, but he did.

I shifted in my seat in an effort to get comfortable. I was grateful for the upgrade from coach, but it was still a chair.

"You can lean on me," Bobby offered after I wiggled for several more minutes.

"I don't want to confine you to your seat."

"I'm not going anywhere," he stated firmly.

So I tucked my feet beneath me and leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder.

He smelled even better close up, and I idly wondered how anyone could still smell alluring after so long on an airplane.

"Better?" he asked when I let out a heavy sigh.

"Uh huh. Thanks."

I closed my eyes while my mind replayed snippets of our conversation.

It was crazy, really.

Pulling information from Bobby made me feel like I was coaxing a wild animal to come and eat out of my hand.

It was scary and exhilarating at the same time. And definitely well-worth the effort.

I wondered what was going through his mind.

Was he enjoying our time as much as me?

Was he tired of pretending that we weren't more to each other than our jobs dictated?

Or was he utterly clueless as to how I felt and completely disinterested in changing the status quo?

It was really hard to say.

And then I heard him exhale deeply as he rested his cheek against the top of my head.

_Maybe it wasn't so hard to say_, I thought with an internal smile.

And maybe after we got through this case, I'd make a dare for myself.

I was going to find out once and for all if there was any chance for us to be together.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Alex POV**

* * *

><p>"Twenty bucks says she's disappointed when she sees me."<p>

"What? You're crazy," Bobby answered.

We were sitting in the car parked outside of Beth Harner's home.

"You're misreading her," he continued. "She's just lonely and she's still grieving. It's not about attraction."

"Bobby, I'm telling you…"

"Yeah, and you were telling Ross, too," he interrupted. "Thank you for that, by the way. The two of you are pimping me out."

"It's called using our assets to get information," I replied with a smile.

"I'm your asset, Eames? Is that what you're saying?"

He was being playful again, and I was glad to see that he wasn't ticked at me for, as he put it, pimping him out.

We hadn't had much opportunity for being playful lately.

When we'd arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Fife was holding a press conference. We had to physically remove him from in front of the cameras, and then there was that interminable flight back home…and after all of that, we were pretty sure that Fife was innocent.

Okay, maybe not _innocent_.

In fact, the man gave me the creeps and I wouldn't let him within a thousand yards of my nieces, but we were pretty sure that he hadn't killed Amberleigh.

But someone had sent him those emails, detailing the facts of the murder. He said it was Beth herself, but we had our doubts.

Which was what had prompted the late evening visit to Beth's home.

She'd been excited when Bobby had called to ask if he could come over and maybe he couldn't see it, but I knew she was attracted to him.

Not that I could blame her or anything.

"So, twenty dollars or what?" I asked him.

"You're on," he agreed.

We got out of the car and went up the front walk.

"If I'm right, I'm leaving," I told him. "You'll do better on your own. Otherwise, she'll be feeling resentment towards me and she won't open up."

"Okay," he answered. "But you're not right."

I chuckled at him and shook my head.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

"See what?"

I raised my eyebrow at him and he nodded knowingly.

"Oh, that's right. The effect," he said sarcastically. "Yeah, Eames, I have this overpowering effect on women that makes them swoon at my feet. So how come you're still standing?"

"Oh, me? I'm immune," I told him.

"Really?" he asked, although it seemed as though maybe the playfulness was gone from his voice.

"Well," I amended. "I never was much for swooning."

"Huh."

We got to the front porch and rang the bell.

"Have a nice night," I told him. "You can fill me in later."

"Eames," he began, but then Beth opened the door.

"Wel…" she began excitedly and then she caught sight of me. It was all I could do not to say _I told you so_ right then and there, but instead I was quiet while Beth stumbled through her words. "Oh, I wasn't expecting…the both of you."

"Actually, I was just dropping my partner off," I said with false cheerfulness.

"Maybe next time," Beth said with undisguised relief. "Come in."

"Call me if you need a ride home," I told Bobby.

And the look on his face as Beth was pulling him into her home…I wish I'd had my camera.

I went back to my place, my amusement at the situation with Beth giving way to an analysis of my own relationship with Bobby.

Was he so clueless about my feelings for him, too?

Beth had been pretty blatant in her pursuit.

I was nowhere near as transparent.

Was I?

I'd promised myself on that plane ride to Tokyo that I would broach the issue after this case.

But as each day passed, I became less and less motivated to do so.

Or maybe motivated wasn't the right word.

I mean, I _wanted_ to move things forward with us. Very much wanted to.

So a better word would be chicken shit.

_And that's two words_, my inner voice corrected. And my inner voice sounded a lot like Bobby.

When was this ever going to end?

I'd had a near-death epiphany, one that clearly showed me that I was in love with my partner.

Was I just going to squander all of our time away?

Maybe wait for the next near-death experience?

And what if that time was _actual_ death instead of only nearly?

What a waste that would be…to love him and to never tell him simply because I was afraid.

I piddled around my apartment aimlessly.

I couldn't help but wonder what Bobby was doing.

Had Beth prepared a candlelight dinner?

Was she actively seducing him?

Or had she just wanted his company?

I was making myself crazy thinking about it, so instead I thought back to our game on the plane.

"_You said you can't remember your last date," _I'd prefaced._ "Why has it been so long?"_

"_I haven't found anyone I want to ask," _he'd answered simply. But then he added_, "No, that's not entirely true. I haven't found someone to ask who I thought would say yes."_

"_So you don't ask because you're afraid of rejection?"_

"_You can't ask a follow-up in truth or dare," _he reminded me_._

"_I can if you're vague with your answers."_

"_Are you making up the rules as we go along?" _he asked in amusement.

"_I'm thinking about tossing out the rules entirely," _I answered.

And I was.

And I didn't just mean the game.

"_So I don't ask because I'm afraid?" _he repeated_. "Yeah, something like that."_

I'd wanted to ask another follow-up, but instead he'd tossed out his question. And Bobby never just asks favorite color questions_. _

"_If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be and why?"_

"_That's a two-part question,"_ I pointed out.

"_Yeah, so? You asked two, now I'm asking two."_

"_Okay, fine," _I said on a laugh_. "I can only change one thing?"_

"_I don't know why you'd want to change anything at all," _he replied_. "But most people can usually think of at least one thing."_

"_I can think of half a dozen," _I joked_. "But okay…one. I'd like to be more of a risk-taker."_

"_You? Seriously?"_

"_Why do you say it like that?'_

"_You just…you're fearless. I'm almost scared to ask what kind of risk you'd like to be able to take."_

"_Yeah, well it's not your turn any more so you can't ask that anyway."_

"_You didn't answer the why."_

I sighed heavily and pushed my hair back behind my ear.

"_I think I spend too much time weighing consequences. I'd like to act once in awhile and deal with the outcomes instead of always analyzing every possible conclusion before hand."_

"_Analyzation isn't always a bad thing."_

"_It is if it holds us back."_

"_And you're holding yourself back?" _he asked me and the way he was looking at me…I felt like he could read my mind.

Did he know that we were having a conversation full of subtext and insinuation, or was he simply taking my words at face value?

I wasn't sure.

"_Yes," _I answered.

He'd held my gaze another minute longer, and I was almost ready to elaborate, despite my fears, and that was when the attendant had stopped at our seats, offering us another drink.

And the moment was gone.

How many more moments would I get?

I pondered that as I changed clothes and then sat in front of the TV. I didn't even turn it on, but instead just stared at the black screen.

Would Bobby call me when he finished at Beth's house?

Or was he annoyed with me for ditching him?

No, I'd told him that I was going to leave if it was obvious that she only wanted him.

And it had been glaringly obvious.

I spent another hour thinking and staring into darkness and then there was a knock on my door.

I knew it was him without even looking.

It had to be. It was eleven forty-five at night.

I was almost scared to open the door because I'd been doing a lot of soul-searching and a little bit of drinking, and I was feeling extremely vulnerable.

Depending on his mood, I may very well say something I shouldn't.

_Or should, depending on how it worked out_, I amended.

Because what if I pulled him into my apartment and then kissed him like there was no tomorrow?

And what if he kissed me back?

_Or what if he didn't, _my inner insecurity spouted off.

I tamped down my insane urge to molest my partner and instead, opened the door.

"So, did you get lucky?" I asked him with a smirk.

"That depends on your definition of lucky," he replied. I stepped back to allow him entry, so he cautiously entered my apartment. "I hope it's not too late."

"That depends on your definition of late," I responded, hoping that my teasing words would speak for themselves.

I closed the door and then turned to find him still loitering in the foyer.

"Well, you know…a man shows up on a woman's doorstep at close to midnight…"

"Are you worried about my reputation?"

"Maybe," he said as he reached into his wallet. "That's why I figured it would be better to pay you once I was all the way inside."

He flashed me a grin and handed over a twenty dollar bill.

"You had her pegged," he added. "I don't know how I missed the signs."

"You weren't looking. You just want to solve the case."

"True," he said thoughtfully. He was still holding the twenty in his hand, so he held it out closer to me.

"I'm not taking your money," I said, waving him off. I moved past him and into the living room. "It was a sucker's bet."

"Are you calling me a sucker?" he asked as he followed me. "So you send me off to the wolf's den, knowing what she had in mind and then on top of that, you insult me. I don't know what to think about that, Eames."

"Wolf's den? That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" I said on a laugh.

I sat down on the couch and he sat down next to me. Not too close, but not too far away either.

The man was a master at sending mixed signals.

He was here at midnight and yet he hadn't even removed his suit jacket.

He sat with me on the couch, but not close enough to be touching.

One second, I thought that he must know exactly what's on my mind, and the next he came off as totally clueless.

"I'm just saying…you set me up."

"Maybe you should pay better attention to the signs," I said simply, having dropped my teasing tone.

He tilted his head to one side, studying me in that unnerving manner of his that he usually reserves for suspects.

But it was only unnerving because of my uncertainty.

What did he see when he looked at me?

His partner? His friend?

Surely, but did he see anything more?

He studied me until I began to squirm on the inside.

"Maybe I should," he said at last while he continued to stare.

Instead of cracking under his scrutiny, I began to study him.

The stubble that was back, even though he'd shaved again a few hours ago.

The hair that was slightly messy and maybe a little bit too long, but nevertheless my fingers were itching to touch it.

The lips that were full and soft and begged to be kissed.

I was close enough to kiss him.

Almost.

I mean, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch.

But what _then_?

What came _next_?

That was what kept me rooted to the couch cushion.

I couldn't predict his reaction and I was too scared to act without knowing the consequence.

Aside from that, I'm not sure when I'd become so obsessed with kissing my partner. Why was it, after more than five years, that I suddenly could think of little else?

Was it because deep down I believed we had a real chance?

Or was it something more basic than that…something to do with the fact that I'd gone without any kind of physical affection for a very long time?

"Am I keeping you from something? Were you getting ready to go to bed?" he asked quietly.

"No, I was waiting for you. I mean, I thought that you'd call, but I'm glad you came over."

"Me, too. Let's finish our game," he said suddenly, as he reached up to loosen his tie.

"What game?"

"Truth or dare. I've got one for you, Eames."

"A dare?"

"Yeah," he said. His tie was loose, so now he moved to undo the top couple of buttons on his shirt, and I couldn't help but watch his progress. "Unless you're scared."

He smirked after tossing out the challenge, knowing there was no way that I'd back down now.

"Okay. Name it."

"You said that you wanted to be a risk-taker," he stated.

He leaned slightly closer to me, shifting sideways, with one arm on the back of the couch.

"Yeah, so?" I asked nervously.

"So, take a risk."

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Bobby POV**

* * *

><p>Take a risk.<p>

That's what I said.

What was I thinking?

I know exactly what I was thinking.

I wanted to find out if the risk that she'd been wanting to take, the idea that she was holding herself back, had to do with me.

Because I thought that maybe it did.

I really _hoped_ that it did.

We'd gotten so much closer over the past couple of months that even I could see that maybe we were heading somewhere.

And I _really_ wanted that.

I don't think I ever appreciated how much I need Eames in my life until Jo Gage took her away from me.

To say I'd been frantic would be a gross understatement.

I'd been completely out of my mind.

I was the one who'd had to pop that trunk, fearing that inside was the body of the woman I loved.

Loved, and yet never uttered the words. Never shown her any kind of a sign.

The relief I felt at seeing someone other than Eames in that trunk was immediately followed by guilt and then adrenaline.

I still needed to find her.

Not long after, I got word that she'd saved herself.

_Of course she did_, I'd thought.

She's Eames.

She wasn't going to wait around for me to ride in on my trusty steed.

I'd spent the night in her hospital room that night, the two of us talking about everything but work.

I loved every minute of it.

I was also determined that we weren't going to backslide into the way things were before.

That's not to say I expected us to suddenly start dating or sleeping together or something, but I at least wanted us moving in that direction.

Because I _want_ to date her.

And Lord knows I want to sleep with her.

And maybe that sounds like I'm putting too much emphasis on the physical, but I can't help wanting her that way.

And since I want her in every other way, too, I'm not going to feel bad about it.

But until recently, it seemed as though she was happy with the way things were.

And I was already staining her life, professionally speaking, so it would be unfair of me to do so on a personal basis, too.

After she got out of the hospital, we spent more off-time together. I just couldn't get enough of hearing her talk about her private life, and I learned that it was actually nice to share mine as well.

I felt bad that she'd had to find out about my mother in the way that she did.

I'd wanted to tell her, but she'd only recently come back to work.

And lately I'd been dividing my free time between my mom and Eames, but I was afraid that if I told her, she'd insist on me spending more time with my mother.

And I didn't want to do that.

I love my mother and I needed to be with her, but I also needed to be away from her.

And spending time with Eames seemed to make everything else better.

But so I put off telling her, and then I'd needed to use it to get Ray to open up.

And of course, she'd guessed right away that what I'd told him was true. That's because she knows me better than anyone.

She also wasn't mad at me for not telling her sooner.

And maybe she didn't know the exact reason for the delay, but it didn't matter.

Eames wasn't petty like that.

In fact, she was pretty understanding.

She understood that I didn't want to be alone after that incident with Ray. I didn't even have to say a word.

I _couldn't_ say anything.

The thoughts that had run through my head while he'd pointed a gun at me…and not just about what would my mother do without me, but also what about Eames?

If Ray pulled that trigger, I'd go to my grave without ever having told her that I loved her.

Did she already know and was just choosing to ignore it?

Or did she not see it because she didn't view me in that light?

I didn't know and I was almost to the point where I was tired of not knowing.

I'd finally talked Ray down from the proverbial ledge, or so I'd thought. And then he'd killed himself. Right there, on his front lawn, where his wife and child could see.

What kind of man did that to the ones he loved?

So my head was in a bad place as we left Water Haven and without asking, Eames took me to her place.

I hadn't spent the night on her couch in awhile, but I did that night. And after we talked, I felt a lot better.

And it didn't hurt that she held my hand.

Well, actually she just put her hand on top of mine, a simple, comforting gesture. I was the one who had turned my hand over so that I could hold onto hers. But she hadn't seemed to mind and we stayed that way while we talked.

The next few cases were a little easier and we once again found our rhythm.

Sadly, there was no more hand-holding, but we did seem to find more time to have lighter moments. Eames has a wicked sense of humor and she has a knack for pulling out the teasing side of me.

I'm not sure if she even realizes exactly what her sarcastic remarks do to me sometimes.

Like when she mentioned how she'd always wanted to honeymoon in Vietnam.

She was being cynical, of course, and it wasn't exactly a sexually suggestive comment, right?

And yet her remark had me instantly thinking about where she _might_ like to honeymoon.

It had me picturing her on a warm beach somewhere…in a bathing suit.

Or maybe on a beach in the south of France where bathing suits were merely an option but most definitely not a necessity.

See what I mean? I'd gotten to the point where I could turn the most innocent comment into something sexual.

Because I have an extremely active and detailed imagination. And just because I've never actually seen Eames in a bathing suit, or out of one for that matter, that didn't mean that I couldn't vividly picture it in my mind.

But I digress.

So that day, we got on a plane headed for Ho Chi Minh City, via LA and Tokyo.

By the time we changed planes in LA, I had the file memorized and I was tired of talking about work. It was already quitting time, or at least it was on the East coast, so I had no problem suggesting that we not talk about work for awhile.

And it wasn't much of a stretch considering Eames started out the flight by teasing me about my effect on women. I was pretty sure she was just making that up, but it didn't really matter to me anyway.

I only wanted to have an effect on one woman, and the jury was still out on that.

When the flight attendant mistook us for a married couple, it reminded me about Eames' honeymoon comment.

And since I was ready to be off duty, I thought that would be a great place to start.

"Where'd you go with Joe?" I asked her.

I was curious about him, but only because he'd been someone important in her life. By learning about him, it gave me more insight into her.

And I wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

I caught her off guard with my personal question, so I explained my theory.

"We've got eleven hours before another layover in Tokyo and I've already memorized the entire case file. Maybe we can pretend like we're off the clock for awhile, huh?"

She readily agreed and then she started talking about Joe. About their lack of honeymoon and about how she missed him but mostly in the sense that she missed having someone.

I didn't want her to miss having someone.

I wanted her to have me.

I couldn't resist putting my hand over top of hers where it rested on her leg.

Considering how much larger mine is, my fingers were directly touching her thigh, an area of hers I've never touched before, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she turned her hand over and grabbed onto mine.

She gradually moved the conversation onto my mother and I talked some about her latest course of treatment. She hadn't met my mother yet and as much as I'd like for her to, I was also anxious about it.

The cancer had trumped the schizophrenia, in terms of which medications to take, and so she was presently in a manic-depressive cycle.

The doctors were working to get the dosage adjusted so that she could get back to a more stable mental state, but it wasn't happening just yet.

By the time dinner was served, we were both in a funk and we still had several hours before we reached Tokyo, not to mention the subsequent flight to Vietnam.

Fortunately for me, Eames had a plan.

"Truth or dare," she told me.

"Truth or dare? How old are we?" I teased, although there was no way in the world I wasn't going to participate.

"Okay fine," she said with a shrug. "Watch a movie or something. Whatever. We've only got five hours left."

She was bluffing, I could tell. She picked through the meager selection of magazines, but there was nothing there that was going to catch her attention.

I finally let her off the hook.

"Truth or dare huh? I suppose that might be interesting."

"Well, we'll have to play without the dare part of course," she stated.

"No dares? Come on, Eames. What fun is that?"

"What kind of dares can we do on a plane?" she countered.

And there it was again.

A seemingly innocuous remark that sent my mind down an x-rated path.

And most of the time, I would keep thoughts like that to myself, but I decided to see what she'd say if I upped the suggestive nature of the conversation. Just a little.

"Huh. I don't know…I can think of a few."

She actually laughed. And blushed slightly. I was pretty sure that now her mind was going down the same path as mine.

_Good_, I thought.

We teased each other for a minute and then we agreed to postpone the dare portion of the game.

"After this case," I clarified. I didn't want it to be some open-ended thing that we never got around to.

Because I could think of quite a few things I'd like to dare her to do.

"Deal," she replied. "So for now it's just truth."

The time passed quickly as we bantered back and forth.

Some questions were easy.

"Who is the one person you most regret having slept with?" she asked me, her eyebrow raised in a challenge.

Did she think I'd have trouble answering that one? Was she hoping it was someone she might know?

I'm not sure what she expected, but I couldn't resist messing with her first.

"Bishop," I said. "That was just…"

"What?" she yelled, causing the passenger in front of us to turn around and glare. She lowered her voice and said, "Are you kidding me? Lynn Bishop?"

I could only keep a straight face for a few seconds and then I burst out laughing.

"I'm joking," I promised. "I mean, if I had slept with her, then yeah, she'd be the one I most regret, but no…there isn't enough scotch in the world to make that happen."

"Oh, thank God," she muttered. Then she chucked me with her elbow, knocking my arm off the armrest between us. "I can't believe you said that."

"So that bothers you, huh?" I asked with a smile.

"I just…wow. I hope you have better taste than that."

"I have excellent taste," I said pointedly.

"Okay, well now that you had your fun, answer the question."

"Robin Phillips," I told her. "It was senior year of high school. She was fairly predatory and I…had a thing for short blondes."

"Really," she stated in disbelief. "Uh huh. So why the regret?"

"Lewis had a crush on her."

"So you weren't allowed to go after anyone who Lewis liked?"

"It wasn't that," I clarified. "It was just that I didn't talk to him about it first. And then I didn't tell him immediately after and so he heard about it from someone else."

And then there were some questions that were hard.

Eames asked me why I hadn't been on a date in so long. That would've been an easy one if I could admit that it was because of her.

But I couldn't say that.

"I haven't found anyone I want to ask," I answered.

But that was a lie, so I had to amend my answer.

"No, that's not entirely true. I haven't found someone to ask who I thought would say yes."

"So you don't ask because you're afraid of rejection?"

She's astute, my Eames. She hit the nail on the head on the first try.

I'd had my share of rejection from women and I usually bounced back just fine, but with her, I wasn't sure how quickly I'd be able to recover.

I also wasn't sure how it would alter our working relationship so to say that I was afraid was an understatement.

I avoided the question by engaging her in a brief verbal spar, but then I finally came clean.

"So I don't ask because I'm afraid? Yeah, something like that."

She watched me for another moment as if she was hoping I'd say more, and then she deferred to me.

I asked her what she'd change about herself. I was curious to hear her answer.

Most women would probably come up with a physical attribute, something superficial.

But Eames wasn't most women.

"I'd like to be more of a risk-taker."

"You? Seriously?"

"Why do you say it like that?'

"You just…you're fearless. I'm almost scared to ask what kind of risk you'd like to be able to take."

"Yeah, well it's not your turn any more so you can't ask that anyway."

"You didn't answer the why."

She let out a deep sigh and ran her hand through her hair, tucking a loose piece back behind her ear. I'd been wanting to push back that same piece for several minutes now and I couldn't help but track her movement with my eyes.

And then she explained her answer.

She was tired of worrying about consequences ahead of time. She wanted to act first and think later.

"Analyzation isn't always a bad thing," I said, although maybe I'm wrong about that. I've been analyzing to death my feelings for her and yet I still hadn't done anything about it.

"It is if it holds us back," she responded.

It made me nervous to think that maybe she was reading my mind.

"And you're holding yourself back?" I asked.

And as I looked into her eyes I could almost completely forget that we were on a plane surrounded by strangers. We could just as easily have been in her apartment, sitting on her couch…

"Yes," she said, and dawning hit me with that one syllable.

Did she really mean that she was holding herself back from _me_?

How ironic would it be if we were both wishing for the other one and yet both too scared to make a move?

I continued to stare at her, thinking that maybe it was time to take a chance.

What would she do if I kissed her right now?

"Sir, can I get you something else to drink?" the flight attendant asked, breaking into our bubble and squashing the moment.

The attendant continued to bustle in our general vicinity. By this time, we'd been talking for quite some time, so Eames looked at me apologetically and said that she needed to take a nap.

It was probably a good idea for both of us to get a little sleep.

"You can lean on me," I told her after she spent a few minutes attempting to find a comfortable position. She argued briefly, but then she leaned her head onto my shoulder and let out a deep breath.

"Better?" I asked her.

Because it was definitely better for me. I liked her being this close.

"Uh huh. Thanks," she answered sleepily.

I couldn't resist leaning my cheek against the top of her head and then I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The rest of the trip was a whirlwind.

We commandeered Fife in Vietnam and we got him back to New York.

Eames and I both agreed that he wasn't our man, but it wasn't any big surprise that Ross didn't want to hear it.

The man had a knack for bringing out the worst in me. Not only that, but he seemed to enjoy doing so. It was like he had a bet with himself over how long it would take him to piss me off.

I could easily answer that one.

About five seconds.

"You need to talk to Beth Harner about those emails," he said after chastising us for ruining the ADA's case. As though it would've been a good thing to go forward with the prosecution of the wrong man. "Get her to open up."

"Not me," Eames replied. She nodded toward me and added, "He's the one she was making goo-goo eyes with."

_What_?

"What's your take on her?" the captain asked me.

"Well, she's off at times in her affect. You know, she smiles when she's upset…she craves attention."

_And that's all it is_, I wanted to add to Eames.

Although I guess it was a moot point.

I just didn't get how she saw that as Beth coming on to me.

"You said she craves attention, give her some," Ross said simply. "You gained Fife's trust. Gain hers."

He went into his office and I couldn't help but roll my eyes in annoyance.

Some days I really missed Jimmy Deakins.

"It won't be so bad, Bobby," Eames said as she followed me to my desk.

"I think you're wrong about Beth," I told her. "I'm going to call and ask if she minds if we drop by. We'll go together."

"Okay," she agreed. "But when you call, don't say _we_. Say _I_."

"But it's going to be _we_."

"Maybe. But if _we_ want her to say yes, then she needs to think it's just _you_," she said with a smirk.

And just like that she lifted my mood.

So I made the call and then a couple hours later, we drove out to her house.

"Twenty bucks says she's disappointed when she sees me," Eames said as she cut off the engine.

"What? You're crazy. You're misreading her. She's just lonely and she's still grieving. It's not about attraction."

"Bobby, I'm telling you…"

"Yeah, and you were telling Ross, too," I reminded her. "Thank you for that, by the way. The two of you are pimping me out."

"It's called using our assets to get information," she replied as a smile spread across her face.

"I'm your asset, Eames? Is that what you're saying?"

"So, twenty dollars or what?" she asked, deflecting my question.

"You're on."

As we walked towards the house, she told me that if Beth acted like she didn't want her there, then she was going to leave.

And it made sense.

If she was right, then Eames' presence would only keep Beth guarded.

But she wasn't right.

Was she?

"You really don't see it, do you?" she asked me curiously.

It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about, but then I got it.

"Oh, that's right. The effect," I said, using my best Eames-like sarcasm. "Yeah, Eames, I have this overpowering effect on women that makes them swoon at my feet. So how come you're still standing?"

"Oh, me? I'm immune," she said with a smile.

_Please tell me that's not true_, I thought.

"Really?"

"Well, I never was much for swooning."

"Huh."

Maybe I'd have to work on that. Not that I wanted her to literally swoon, but it would be nice to be _wanted_.

We got to the front porch and rang the bell and when Beth opened the door, I knew I was in for it.

"Wel…" she began and then she stopped cold when she saw Eames. "Oh, I wasn't expecting…the both of you."

"Actually, I was just dropping my partner off," Eames said triumphantly.

And I honestly didn't even care about the twenty dollars. I was more worried about being able to keep Beth focused on answering my questions because she looked like all she wanted to do was get me out of my suit.

"Maybe next time," Beth told Eames dismissively as she grabbed onto my arm. "Come in."

"Call me if you need a ride home," Eames called out just before Beth closed the door.

I didn't need a ride and I wasn't going home.

I was going to take a cab to Eames' place.

The dinner at Beth's turned out to be not overly horrible.

I actually felt sorry for her. She'd never gotten over her loss from all those years ago.

Beth chatted easily with me about Amberleigh, discussing that last night, and I learned what I needed to know about the emails.

As soon as I could reasonably and politely leave, I said my goodbyes and went out to the street where I called a cab and then waited for it to show.

Eames was still living out in Rockaway, although she'd mentioned more than once that she wanted to find some place new.

I didn't blame her, after what had happened there, but I was also impressed with her determination to recover first and then move.

She said that she wanted to move because the place she was in now was where she'd lived with Joe.

And then there was the incident with the _other_ Jo.

She said she was long overdue to make a clean break.

I wondered if maybe she'd find something closer to me. I mean, that would make it closer to work, too, which made sense.

Being closer to me would just be an added benefit.

But for tonight, I still made the trip out to Rockaway.

I hadn't told her that I was coming. I wanted to gauge her response to my unexpected visit.

Would she be happy to see me?

Or annoyed that I'd been presumptuous enough to drop by unannounced at almost midnight?

I could play it off and act like I wanted to update her on the case.

I mean, I _had_ learned about Beth's inability to email, so I knew that we wanted to look closer at Nate and Jamie Royce.

But unless she was irritated with my arrival, I planned to put off work discussions until tomorrow.

Right now, we were off-duty.

I knocked on her door and it didn't occur to me until after I knocked that maybe she was already in bed.

Was I waking her up?

No. She would've been expecting me to call. No way would she have gone to sleep without hearing from me first.

She opened up the door and I immediately noticed her attire.

She was definitely dressed for bed.

And of course, I've seen her dressed for bed before, but not in clothing quite so abbreviated.

Plaid flannel shorts. Maybe men's boxers? It was hard to say for sure without examining them more closely.

Dark blue tank top. It was fairly form-fitting.

And it's not that I haven't seen her in sleeveless shirts before. Or tight shirts.

But this one was sleeveless _and_ tight and it was very distracting.

"So, did you get lucky?" she asked me as I fought hard not to stare.

_Not yet, but what are my chances now_, I wanted to say.

But of course, I didn't say that.

"That depends on your definition of lucky," I replied as she moved aside so that I could enter her apartment.

I wasn't sure if coming in was a good idea.

I wasn't sure that I'd be able to look at her dressed like that and maintain my professional distance.

Hell, who was I kidding?

I had no intention of maintaining _any_ kind of distance.

"I hope it's not too late," I added lamely.

"That depends on your definition of late," she teased. I made mention of how it might look bad to her neighbors, the fact that I was visiting her so late at night, but she wasn't bothered in the least.

And she wouldn't take my twenty for payment on the bet.

"It was a sucker's bet," she insisted as she moved past me and went into the living room.

I'd been waiting in the foyer because I wasn't sure if she was going to let me hang out for awhile, but apparently she was, so I quickly followed her.

"Are you calling me a sucker? So you send me off to the wolf's den, knowing what she had in mind and then on top of that, you insult me. I don't know what to think about that, Eames," I joked.

"Wolf's den? That's s little dramatic, don't you think?" she replied, chuckling lightly as she sat down on the couch.

I sat down, too, encouraged by the fact that she seemed happy that I'd come over.

"I'm just saying…you set me up," I told her.

"Maybe you should pay better attention to the signs," she answered.

And there it was.

Another one of her simple statements that was layered in meaning.

Because she was giving me signs, right?

Was she telling me that I shouldn't be afraid because she wouldn't reject me?

Or was this just Eames, being a friend?

I studied her for a moment, her relaxed position on the couch, turned slightly towards me in a gesture of openness.

"Maybe I should," I agreed.

And the more I looked at her, the more I thought about kissing her.

I'd wanted to for some time. In fact, I almost did on the plane.

And now, here we were…late at night, alone in her apartment.

What better opportunity were we going to have?

I couldn't think of one, and yet I was still scared. The repercussions were endless if I made such a move only to find out that I'd been misreading the signs.

I realized after a moment that she was studying me just as intently as I was watching her. I then focused on her gaze as it moved from my hair to my lips.

Was she honestly thinking the same thing as me?

I decided that I had to find out. I couldn't leave here until I knew.

"Am I keeping you from something? Were you getting ready to go to bed?"

It was a stupid question, considering her attire, and yet I wanted to make sure that I was truly welcome. I needed to hear her say the words.

"No, I was waiting for you. I mean, I thought that you'd call, but I'm glad you came over."

"Me, too. Let's finish our game," I told her. I tugged on the knot of my tie, pulling it away from my throat as she questioned what I meant by game.

"Truth or dare. I've got one for you, Eames."

"A dare?" she asked, and she sounded nervous. Or maybe distracted.

Was it affecting her, watching me get comfortable by undoing the top buttons of my shirt?

"Yeah. Unless you're scared."

I smiled as I said the words because there's one sure thing about Eames. She doesn't back down from a challenge.

"Okay. Name it."

"You said that you wanted to be a risk-taker," I reminded her. I'd had a hell of a dream on the plane after she'd said those words, my mind pondering exactly what kind of a risk she wanted to take.

I kept my eyes on hers as I shifted so that I was facing her.

"Yeah, so?" she asked, and she was slightly breathless.

"So, take a risk."

I didn't breathe after I said the words while I waited for her to react.

There was a broad spectrum of potential responses and after a few seconds of silence, I fully expected her to make something up.

_Okay, I'll take a risk. I'm going to tell Ross tomorrow that I want to take the Lieutenant's exam._

Or…

_Okay. First thing in the morning, I'm going to give my landlord notice that I'm ending my lease, and then I'll be forced to find some place else to live._

But she didn't say either of those things.

In fact, she didn't say anything at all.

Instead, she closed the short distance between us and kissed me.

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Alex POV**

* * *

><p>"So, take a risk."<p>

He'd thrown down the gauntlet with those four little words.

Did he really know what he was telling me to do?

Did he understand exactly what kind of risk I'd been wrestling with myself to take?

I sat for a moment, frozen with indecision as my mind went through its usual game of pros and cons.

And then I stopped myself.

Because that right there is what always caused my inaction.

Because even though the con list only has one entry – _he doesn't want me like that_ – that entry scared me enough to override all of the pros.

But now here was Bobby, challenging me to overcome my fears.

So I did.

I leaned over and kissed him.

And not just a quick kiss, either. I decided that just in case I never got another opportunity like this one, then I was damn sure going to make the most of it.

So I put one hand on that scruffy cheek and I pressed my lips against his, gently at first but then with more purpose. A fluttering feeling settled in my stomach and I eased closer to him, still slightly afraid that he might pull away.

But he didn't.

Instead, he put his hand on my thigh, like he'd done that night on the plane. Only this time, there was no fabric between us. It was just his large hand on my bare skin. He clenched his fingers lightly as he leaned closer to me, returning my kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Excitement and arousal raced through me as I slid my hand from his cheek down to the front of his shirt. I grabbed onto the material, holding him in place as I continued to move my mouth over his.

I changed the angle and then changed it back again, unable to decide which way was best because it was all just so damn good.

I couldn't stop the sigh that escaped from me as I pulled away fractionally, briefly, before starting it all over again.

For me, it was like the flood gates had been opened. I'd been wanting to do this for so long…

In a deft move, he shifted his hand from my thigh around to my back as he moved on the couch, turning us so that he was leaning over me.

He completely took over control of the kiss and I was rapidly losing all rational thought, along with my objectivity and my self-control.

I'll admit that I've spent some time pondering what it might be like to kiss him.

In my mind, our first kiss was always hesitant, innocent, unsure.

The real thing was nothing like that.

It was hot and powerful and passionate and desperate and I never wanted it to end.

I let go of the front of his shirt and instead wrapped my arm around him, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel his body against mine.

It wasn't a stretch to imagine what it would be like to make love with him.

Thinking about my hands running over his firm muscles…feeling the hardness of him as he pushed into me…I was making myself crazy.

_He_ was making me crazy and I have no idea how I so completely underestimated the devastating effect he would have on me.

And it _was_ devastating.

But in a good way, of course.

I'm not usually passive when I'm with a man, but he was just so…commanding and fervent and…and…so damn good at this that I was ready to let him do whatever he wanted.

And maybe that doesn't sound right.

I _wanted_ him to do whatever he wanted.

But then finally, very reluctantly, he pulled away.

He stayed close, though, and those all-seeing eyes of his watched me carefully. Looking for what, I'm not sure, since I'm the one who started this ball rolling, but he stared at me intensely for a long minute.

I ran my tongue over my lips and I barely registered the action until his eyes dropped to follow the motion.

So then I did it again.

And then he kissed me again.

He ran his tongue across my lips, mirroring the movement I'd done only moments ago, and then he slid his hand up into the back of my hair as he touched his lips to mine.

Lightly…reverently…almost as though he was memorizing the taste.

But it wasn't enough.

I wanted more, much more, so I decided that it was my turn to take control again.

I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him back, but I followed him until I was nearly sitting on his lap.

He willingly gave up control and instead settled his hands on my hips. And this time it was his turn to let out a moan as I rose up onto my knees a little in order to change the angle once again.

After several more minutes, I pulled back. We looked at each other, both of us breathless, and I wasn't sure what to do next.

I was torn between apologizing and tearing his shirt off of him, but then he broke into a grin.

"Okay, so what's this big risk you've been wanting to take?" he asked me.

"Bobby," I said as the laughter rolled through me. "You don't think that was a risk? I mean you could've pulled away…you could've said you weren't interested…you could've…"

"But I didn't do any of those things," he said quietly as he tightened his grip on my hips and pulled me more fully onto his lap.

And now I _could_ feel him, the hardness of him, pressing against me. The realization of that sent another wave of arousal through me. I was only slightly surprised by his willingness to share that fact with me, but I figured that was his way of leveling the playing field, of letting me know that he was right there with me.

And I had to admit that it felt surreal, sitting on my partner's lap with his erection pressed against me. But in a good way. I was sure I'd never been this turned on in my entire life.

"And in case you're unclear, I'm definitely interested," he added. He moved one hand from my hip and instead ran it over my hair as he watched me intently.

"You were waiting for me to make the first move?"

"I was scared to ask for fear of rejection, remember?" he said, chuckling self-consciously. "I guess it's safe to say that you're not going to reject me, huh? Unless this is…"

He trailed off and he suddenly looked unsure of himself.

Considering the confidence he'd exuded when he had me pinned against the couch, I'm not sure what had changed in the past five minutes, but then it hit me.

"You don't really think I'd take this kind of risk for just a quick roll in the sack, do you?" I asked him.

"Quick?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow as though I was casting aspersions on his prowess.

"You know what I mean," I said with a smile as I once again placed my hand against his cheek. "I actually didn't expect all of…_that_. I just wanted to kiss you. I thought that would be the best way to show you how I feel. And then it turned into…"

"Yeah," he agreed, letting out a deep breath. "That was…"

"Encore worthy?" I asked as I moved my mouth to within an inch of his.

The change in position caused me to put increased pressure on him in just the right spot, which then pulled another groan from him.

He closed the last distance between us, kissing me with renewed fervor, and he had me instantly right on the edge.

I couldn't keep from rocking against him, desperate to ease the ache. He ran his hands down my back and over my butt, gripping onto me and pulling me tightly against him.

I've never been so close to coming while still fully clothed.

And okay, so I was actually in my pajamas, but so far his hands hadn't strayed beneath any of the material.

He moved his lips from my mouth and then kissed his way to my throat, so I tilted my head to one side and closed my eyes.

My whole body was vibrating with pleasure as he continued to kiss my neck while simultaneously rubbing his hands over my thighs.

"Eames," he whispered and his voice sounded husky…sexy and strained. "We need to stop. I need to stop."

"Are you sure?" I asked him as I opened my eyes to look at him.

The longing hit me again, harder than ever, and this time it was from looking into his eyes.

Never had I wanted a man as much for his mind as his body. It was usually one or the other, but with Bobby, I wanted it all.

I wanted him to take me hard up against a wall, and then I wanted him to debate evidence with me.

I wanted to get him out of his suit so I could feel the firm, silky length of him in my hand.

And then I wanted to hear him spout off about early Renaissance-era art.

And maybe that was why this was so good. It was about so much more than just a physical need.

I'd thrown him by asking if he was sure that we needed to stop. And honestly, I didn't want to stop. Waiting a day or a month wasn't going to change how I felt about him.

"I…no," he said as he exhaled heavily. Then he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me to him. "No, I'm not sure. But we don't need to rush this. We've got time."

"We've already wasted a lot of time."

"I don't think it's a waste," he said as he stroked his hands up and down my back. "It was time that we needed to get right here."

"And where is here?" I asked him, sitting back a little so that I could look at him again.

"If you keep wiggling on my lap, here is going to be the two of us sweaty and naked on the floor."

"Is that supposed to make me want to sit still?" I replied as I slowly and purposefully shifted my hips downward against him.

He sucked in a breath and leaned his head back against the back of the couch.

"I had no idea you were such a tease," he managed to say.

His fingers once again found their way to my thighs and he tightened his grip on me, moving me hard against him again.

And he called _me_ the tease.

"I just know what I want," I countered. "And for a long time, I thought it would never happen."

"You're afraid that if we stop now, I'll back off," he stated knowingly. "Because that's kind of how we do things, isn't it? A step forward, then two back…"

"Maybe," I admitted.

"That's not going to happen," he said quietly as he relaxed his grip and instead used his thumbs to caress the bare skin just below the hem of my shorts. "Not this time."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I've been wanting you for a long time, too. A _really_ long time," he said with a little bit of an insecure smile.

I think he was going to say more, but before he could, I kissed him again. The sincerity of his words and his gentle touch combined to send a fresh flood of desire through me, and I just couldn't hold myself back.

I was tired of denying myself this pleasure.

And we could wait. But why?

We'd been building this friendship for five years.

And I loved him.

It didn't get better than that, did it?

I spent some time enjoying his lips, and then I kissed along his jaw and up to his ear.

So far, he'd been showing remarkable restraint and now I considered that a challenge.

What would it take to make him lose control?

"We were going to stop," he mumbled, but his words were contradictory since as he said them, he pushed up against me.

So far, we hadn't really done much that we couldn't back away from. It was a make-out session, but there was no removal of clothes or touching of sensitive areas.

But the feel of him against me made me suddenly desperate to touch and be touched.

"_You_ were going to stop," I reminded him. "And why is that again? You said that you want me, right?"

"So much," he said with such adoration that if I wasn't already in love with him that would've put me over the edge.

"Then I dare _you_."

"To do what?"

"Show me how much you want me."

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

**Bobby POV**

* * *

><p>I was currently in the middle of fantasy number one hundred and seven.<p>

And the only thing different, other than the fact that it was reality instead of only existing in my head, was that it was even better than I'd imagined.

Eames was aggressive yet accommodating. She was demanding yet passive.

Sexy but innocent. Confident and insecure.

She was everything at once and exactly what I wanted.

And why _hadn't_ I imagined her just like this?

Because wasn't she exactly what I wanted as a partner? And as a friend?

So why had I thought that this would be different?

I don't know but I couldn't think at the moment because she was sitting on my lap, and I was running my tongue along her neck while at the same time, I was stroking my hands over her bare legs.

It was taking every bit of my focus just to keep my control in check.

Because what I really wanted to do was tear those tiny bits of clothes from her body and then stake my claim.

And yeah, that was a chauvinistic and outdated way of thinking, but I wanted her as _mine_.

I wanted her in every way, and since I was willing to give myself to her as well, then I didn't see the harm in my territorial inclination.

But I also didn't want to rush it.

I didn't want this to only be about sex.

"Eames," I managed to say, and I barely recognized my own voice. "We need to stop. I need to stop."

At the same time, my brain was screaming, _for the love of God __**why**_**?**

"Are you sure?" she asked me, settling her golden eyes onto mine.

Absolutely not.

In fact, I was _really_ sure that I _didn't_ want to stop.

I could just happily sit right here with her for the rest of my life.

"I…no," I admitted as I hugged her against me.

It probably wasn't a good idea to keep torturing myself, but I just didn't want to let her go.

She smelled so good and her skin was so soft…I really wanted to slip my hands beneath her shirt so that I could feel more of that smooth skin, but considering that I was trying to rein in my desire, that would be counterproductive.

"No, I'm not sure," I continued. "But we don't need to rush this. We've got time."

"We've already wasted a lot of time."

"I don't think it's a waste," I argued. "It was time that we needed to get right here."

Because these past couple of months had made this whole thing possible. Us, becoming closer friends, had opened this door.

"And where is here?"

As she asked the question, she shifted on my lap, altering the pressure against me in an extremely enticing way.

And I don't think she meant to do it. Not that time anyway.

But I could feel the heat of her and it was no stretch to imagine shoving aside those tiny shorts and burying myself deeply inside of her.

"If you keep wiggling on my lap, here is going to be the two of us sweaty and naked on the floor."

I said the words so that she would know exactly what she was doing to me, but as she repeated the action, this time intentionally, I had no doubt that she already knew.

Of course, evidence of her effect on me was presently hard to overlook.

"Is that supposed to make me want to sit still?" she asked coyly and I was pretty sure I'd never heard her use that tone of voice.

It was dangerous and sexy and challenging.

I deserved some kind of medal for being able to still hold back.

But I was working on borrowed time. Any second my control was going to snap.

I exhaled slowly and leaned my head back as I told her that she was being a tease.

Although even as I said the words, I knew they weren't true. She wasn't leading me on or anything.

She was enjoying this as much as I was and considering that she wasn't the one asking to stop, then maybe I was the one being the tease.

However, I was seriously reconsidering the whole stopping thing.

I put my hands on her thighs again, clenching the tight muscles, and then I pulled her roughly against me, repeating her earlier movement.

It felt so good to hold her like this, so natural as though every woman up to this point had just been practice.

"I just know what I want," she told me. "And for a long time, I thought it would never happen."

I knew what she meant. She'd been making the effort for much longer than me. She'd tried to break down walls while I was busy building them up.

But I'd only been protecting myself. Because I needed her at work and risking that by trying to have it all was always too scary of a prospect.

Only lately had I realized how much I needed her on a personal level, too. This time, I wasn't going to back away. I wasn't going to pretend like things between us hadn't changed and I told her as much.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I've been wanting you for a long time, too. A _really_ long time."

I was going to tell her how I'd been holding back in order to protect our partnership, but then she leaned in and kissed me again.

And I've got to say it…Eames is one hell of a kisser. She does this thing that just…well, I can feel it in my toes. Among other areas.

I was suddenly slightly panicked that if we did decide to move forward, I was going to be two steps away from the finish line before we even got undressed.

And then _that_ thought made it even worse, because then I was thinking about peeling that tank top off of her, and I knew damn well that she didn't have anything on underneath.

I bit back a groan and tried to think about something else, anything else, but she was rocking against me while she kissed my jaw, and then she started running her tongue along my ear…

"We were going to stop," I reminded her, but as I said the words I couldn't keep from raising my hips, perfectly matching her rhythm and creating even greater friction.

"_You_ were going to stop," she corrected. "And why is that again? You said that you want me, right?"

"So much," I promised.

The words _I love you_ were right on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitated. I didn't want her to feel obligated to say them back.

I also didn't want her to _not_ say them back.

I believed that she wanted me, but want and love are two very different things.

"Then I dare _you_," she stated with a challenging smile.

"To do what?" I asked as her words and her smile went straight to my groin.

"Show me how much you want me."

As she said the words, she sat back a little and dropped her hands to her sides.

She was offering me complete control.

For a moment, I was frozen as the magnitude of what we were about to do seeped into my brain.

There would absolutely be no going back.

_But that's okay_, I realized.

I didn't want to go back to being alone.

I wanted to be with Eames.

"Are you…having second thoughts?" she asked with some degree of uncertainty.

It was taking me so long to react that I guess she got the wrong idea.

I realized what a leap of faith tonight had been for her…when I'd tossed out that dare, she could've deflected it in any number of ways.

But instead, she'd been brave enough to do what I'd been wanting to do for a long time.

So maybe it was my turn to put myself out there.

"No," I assured her. "None whatsoever."

I reached up and touched her cheek and then trailed my finger down her throat, her shoulder, her arm…grazing just the edge of her breast. She visibly reacted to my intimate touch and her responsiveness made me want to do it again.

But I needed to tell her what was on my mind first, so instead I grabbed onto the bottom edge of her shirt, playing with the hem as I brought my eyes back to hers.

"I was just thinking about something."

"Obviously."

"I mean, I was going to say something."

"So what's stopping you?" she asked, and there was that voice again.

She reached out and touched my tie, near the loosened knot and then in a move similar to mine, she slid one finger down the piece of silk, not stopping until she reached the bottom which was resting directly on top of my zipper.

Just the barely-there pressure of her finger had me flooded with anticipation. She was driving me crazy through three layers of fabric.

How was I going to react when she shoved aside the tie so that she could pull down the zipper and reach her hand inside…

"Bobby?" she questioned with a half-smile on her face.

"I'm…wow. You're…very distracting," I said, and then I grabbed onto her hand so that I could attempt to think straight. "I was trying to decide whether or not to say I love you."

"You shouldn't say it if it's not true," she replied practically. "I didn't…"

"I wasn't debating whether or not it's true," I interrupted. "Only whether or not to say it."

"Oh."

"Because it's definitely true," I clarified.

And I was suddenly hyper-aware of the our surroundings.

The half-light that threw shadows across her face.

The ticking of a clock from somewhere in another room.

The softness of the couch beneath me, and the enticing and erotic feel of her weight on top of me.

She stared at me for a moment as my backwards-stated sentiment hung in the air, and then a smile crossed her face.

"It is?"

"It's not something I ever planned on telling you, but…yeah."

It had to be the least romantic way that anyone had ever confessed feelings of love, but I suppose it fit everything else about our relationship.

"So you were just going to keep this big secret from your partner," she said, taking her hand from mine and putting her palm against my cheek.

"Yeah, well I'm kind of hoping that you've been keeping one from me, too."

"I have," she admitted meaningfully as she slowly leaned in to kiss me.

It started out as a fleeting series of light touches and then it gave way to a full assault that had me once again grabbing onto her hips and pulling her to me.

The knowledge that she willingly accepted the fact that I loved her…that she felt the same way about me…it only made this whole experience that much greater.

And I hadn't thought it could get any better.

But it _was_ better and I was suddenly questioning my sanity for having ever suggested that we stop.

While she kissed me, she worked to get my jacket off of me. It was no easy task, considering that neither of us were willing to break contact with each other, but Eames is skilled and creative and she managed to pull it off.

She moved her hands between us, working on unknotting my tie, while I slid my hands up her back, only this time I went beneath her shirt.

Her hands faltered for a moment and she let out a sigh as my fingers made contact with her bare skin. The feel of her was intoxicating and pushed me to new levels of arousal.

She was so small and strong and her skin was so hot and so damn soft…

"Bobby," she said, and her voice was ragged, almost desperate-sounding. "I can't get it."

My tie.

And surely Eames knows how to unknot a tie, so it was quite the ego boost to know that I'd so greatly reduced her dexterity.

I reluctantly pulled my hands from beneath her shirt and then whipped the tie over my head, tossing it behind me as I moved a hand to the back of her head and brought her to me for another crushing kiss.

I was beyond the point of simply wanting her.

I absolutely had to have her.

I wrapped one arm around her back and turned us so that she was leaning back against the arm of the couch.

She worked on the buttons of my shirt as I loomed over her, momentarily stalled by the sight of her beneath me in such an intimate position.

"How many shirts do you need to wear?" she asked in frustration as she undid the last button and pushed apart the two sides of my shirt only to expose my t-shirt.

I chuckled at her and sat back so that I could take off the oxford shirt, but I still couldn't take my eyes off of her. She looked so beautiful lying there, with her hair spilling over the armrest and the hem of her shirt riding up slightly, enough to show a strip of skin at her waist.

I wanted to touch her everywhere at once and yet I was afraid that as soon as I did, it would all be over.

I was _that_ close.

But it was a risk I had to take because I couldn't resist leaning down and kissing her right there, on that small patch of exposed skin.

And of course, just one kiss wasn't enough either, especially not when she put her hands in my hair and let out a contented sigh. So I ran my tongue over that spot and then I inched her shirt upwards slightly so that I would have new area to explore.

She started fidgeting restlessly and I loved that I could do this to her because Eames does _not_ fidget.

_Except when I'm getting ready to make love to her_, I amended triumphantly.

I continued to push her shirt up incrementally until at last I pulled it over her head and then let it fall to the floor.

Never in my wildest dreams had I expected that tonight I'd be lying on Eames' couch with her half-naked beneath me.

_Half-naked and reaching for my belt buckle._

But instead of undoing the buckle, she ran her hand over me, over the outside of my slacks. The amount of pressure was perfect and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting out a low moan of approval.

She repeated the motion, this time pushing even harder against me.

"I think you mentioned something about us being naked and sweaty on the floor," she said as her fingers went to work on the buckle.

This was it.

We were really going to do this.

I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around it even as she undid the buckle, pulled down the zipper and slipped her hand inside of my pants.

I sucked in a harsh breath as she wrapped her fingers around me because even though there was still one layer of cotton between her skin and mine, I was still ready to burst into flames from her touch.

"I think I did," I agreed when I was finally able to speak.

She stroked her hand over me a few more times and then she looked me in the eye and said, "Then let's do it."

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

**Alex POV**

* * *

><p>I had a really hard time not smiling the next day at work.<p>

I mean, we were working a murder case. A sad, tragic fourteen-year-old murder case. It wasn't the time to be walking around with a grin on my face.

But _oh my God_.

Last night…this morning…Bobby was just unbelievable.

We'd moved off the couch and then undressed each other the rest of the way before getting down onto the floor, and I'd had to take a moment just to look at him.

He was so…incredibly masculine.

And huge.

And I don't mean _that_.

Okay, not _only_ that.

But I mean there was something about seeing him without his suit that just made him seem larger than life.

And all of the fantasizing I'd done about him up to this point didn't even come close to measuring up.

He made love to me on that floor until my eyes were rolling back in my head.

And then a few hours later, we went at it again.

The second time was much more physical and I probably had a few bruises on me today, but I was perfectly fine with that.

He probably had a couple on him, too.

Then this morning, before work, we had round three.

I was amazed by his stamina, although he'd shyly told me not to count on that _every_ time.

I thought it was sweet that he wasn't overly cocky about it, but at the same time, he did look extremely pleased with himself. As well he should.

He was adventurous and attentive and he'd put the full focus of his concentration on making me feel good.

And he liked to touch. A _lot_. His hands were constantly in motion.

Of course, so was his mouth. I'm pretty sure that there wasn't a spot on my body that hadn't been touched by his lips.

If I had girlfriends, I'd be bragging to them about him.

But I didn't. I just had Bobby. But he was enough.

He was more than enough.

And maybe one of these days I'd tell my sister about what we were doing, but for now, I liked the idea of the two of us having a secret together.

And slipping back into work mode wasn't all that difficult either.

I'd wondered about that.

I'd considered the possibility that after seeing Bobby naked, I wouldn't be able to look at him the same again.

Or vice versa.

I'd wondered if it would be distracting for him, now that he'd seen me in the throes of passion. Now that he'd heard me scream out his name as I dug my fingernails into his back.

And maybe we _didn't_ look at each other the same, but it still worked.

We still clicked.

And later that night, we got Nate Royce to confess what had really happened.

He'd been the one to kill Amberleigh.

"What kind of father tries to pin a murder on his own son?" I posed as I drove us towards Bobby's apartment.

"What kind of man kills a ten year old child?" he countered.

He sounded tired and I instantly felt guilty for having kept him up all night last night. Although he hadn't acted like it was a hardship at the time.

In fact, he'd been pretty damn energetic.

"Are you going to see your mom?" I asked him when I pulled over in front of his building.

"I need to," he said with a nod. "I haven't seen her in a couple of days."

"I could go with you," I offered. "If you want."

"No. That's probably not a good idea."

I tried to pretend that his decline didn't hurt, but it did. I'd been hoping that he'd be ready to share all of his life with me, but apparently his mother was still largely off limits.

"Don't read too much into that," he said quietly. "It's just…she's just…"

"It's fine," I deflected.

"Eames…"

"Bobby, you've seen me naked. I think it's okay to call me by my first name," I retorted sharply.

He fell silent as I put the car into park, and I mentally rebuked myself.

"I'm sorry," I said. I turned to look at him, but he was looking out the side window. "Bobby…"

He finally faced me and my mood immediately softened.

His hair was messy and his eyes were tired and I just wanted to wrap my arms around him.

And then I realized that I could, so I did.

"It bothered you, didn't it?" I asked as I held him close. "Listening to Jamie talk about his mother."

"I feel bad for the kid. His dad hung him out to dry and his mom was too doped up to care."

"He's turning his life around. He'll be okay."

"How can you know that?"

"We helped him. Otherwise he would've carried around the guilt over what he thought he'd done. And now…"

"Now he knows that it was his father who killed her."

"It's still better than thinking he'd done it himself."

"Maybe," he agreed. He kissed me on the cheek and then let me go, easing back into his seat. "Eames…Alex…I'm just not ready for you to meet my mother."

"Okay."

"No, listen. Not because of you. Because of her."

"Bobby, it's fine."

He reached for my hand, picking it up from where I'd had it resting on the gear shift.

"The doctors are trying to get her medication straight, but she's a mess right now. I'd like to wait until she's feeling balanced again."

I wasn't sure what he was thinking.

Did he think I'd think less of him just because his mother had a mental illness?

Or was he afraid that she'd lash out at me somehow?

Or was he embarrassed of her?

I didn't know, but I wasn't going to push it. I had to let him do it at his own pace.

And considering we'd just gotten together for the first time last night, I should've known better than to expect that everything would suddenly be different.

It was going to take time.

"Whenever you're ready," I told him. "It's a standing offer, okay?"

"Thank you," he said as he brought my hand to his mouth. He kissed the back of it, holding it against his lips for several seconds.

"You can come over later if you want," I told him.

"It'll be late."

"It'll give my neighbors something to talk about. I'll have a man on my doorstep late at night, two nights in a row."

He flashed me a smile and then leaned in to kiss me.

He took his time with it, too, and he had me completely worked up by the time he pulled away.

"Now who's the tease?" I said to him.

"It'll give you something to think about until I get there," he replied, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

"Oh, I'll think about it," I said coyly. "I'm going to strip down and lay on the couch and see if I can…entertain myself…until you show up."

My statement caused him to pause as he was getting out of the car. He turned back to look at me inquisitively, and I just smiled at him.

Of course, I wasn't going to do what I'd said, but I loved putting that image in his head.

He leaned back in and kissed me one more time before promising, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

As soon as he could turned out to be three-thirty.

"Is everything okay?" I asked as I let him into my apartment.

"I don't want to talk about it," he answered as he took off his jacket. He literally looked as though he was almost too tired to stand.

"Come on," I encouraged. "Let's go to bed."

"I'm sure you didn't invite me over here to sleep."

"I invited you because I like spending time with you," I reminded him.

He was in a surly mood and I wasn't going to let him pick a fight.

"Yeah, because I'm a lot of fun," he answered sarcastically. He pulled off his tie and tossed it on the back of the couch and then turned to look at me challengingly. "Isn't that right, Eames? I'm just a barrel of laughs."

"Bobby…"

"You know what? I shouldn't have come here," he said as he headed back towards the foyer. "I'm sorry I kept you up."

"Bobby, wait," I insisted, grabbing onto his arm. When he turned around, I saw that his eyes were filled with unshed tears. He was barely holding himself together.

I didn't say anything else but instead wrapped my arms around him.

"You don't need this, Eames," he said quietly. But he held me tightly as he said the words, with his face buried in my hair.

"That's for me to decide."

"Last night was…a dream come true for me."

"For me, too."

"But I don't know if I have what it takes to maintain a relationship," he continued.

"So you're going to quit before we even try?"

"I hurt you earlier. Already. You wanted to come with me and I…"

"I shouldn't have asked. We need to work on us for a little while and then we'll start bringing in family. There's no hurry."

He was quiet for several minutes, but we continued to hold each other. I wondered what had happened on his visit with his mother and I desperately wanted to ask him about it, but I held my tongue.

"She was in a bad place tonight," he said at last. "And you know, she blames me."

"For her illness?"

"For everything. And I know it's the disease talking, but it's still hard to hear sometimes, you know?"

I could only imagine.

It made me hate his mother, thinking of how she was treating him, but then I realized that was probably one reason why he didn't want me to see her like this.

Because he loved her and he wanted me to see the good side of her instead of what she was at the moment.

"Let's go to bed," I said again.

And this time he let me lead the way to my bedroom.

We never made it in here last night. We'd done the little bit of sleeping we'd managed on the floor in the living room, naked and sweaty as predicted.

So tonight, he looked around my room with interest.

"I never pegged you for a pink person," he said with a hint of a smile as I pulled back the covers to reveal the blush-colored sheets.

"I like to remind myself that I'm a woman from time to time."

"I can probably help with that."

"You think?" I asked as I climbed into the bed next to him.

"I know."

I scooted over next to him, planning to wrap one arm around him, but instead he turned towards me and rolled me onto my back. He quickly settled himself between my legs and propped himself up on his forearms, one on either side of my head.

"I'm sorry about tonight," he said as he brought his lips down to mine.

He kissed me unhurriedly and yet with such emotion. It was tough keeping up with his moods, but just this one kiss had me completely and utterly turned on.

"You should know better than to try to pick a fight with me," I said as he moved his lips over my cheek.

"I'll try not to do that again."

"Oh, you will. But as long as this is how you apologize, then I think we'll be alright."

I ran my hands down his back and over his butt, pulling him against me so that I could feel his arousal. And he didn't disappoint. I could feel him, long and hard, pressing against my stomach.

He stopped kissing me for a minute and ran his hand over my hair as he looked at me intently.

"I love you, Alex. And I hope to God that I don't screw this up, but please know that no matter what, I love you."

"I love you, too. And we'll be fine. You'll see."

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

**Alex POV**

* * *

><p>We were mostly fine for more than three weeks.<p>

In fact, it was amazingly simple for the two of us to slip into a life together.

Probably because we'd had a life together all along and just didn't realize it.

It was actually easier to go with the flow than to continue trying to deny its existence.

And of course, now we got to have sex.

Lots of sex.

Bobby had been worried that he'd set the bar too high that first night, but he had nothing to be concerned about.

He apparently had a few years worth of making up to do.

So did I.

Even in my first year of marriage, I was never in such a state of constant arousal as I'd been over the course of the past few weeks.

And that's not to say we didn't have issues from time to time.

Bobby's mother was a sore spot between us, mostly because he was usually in a foul mood after visiting her. Her condition was getting worse, and it seemed that Bobby's willingness to talk about her shrank proportionately.

And of course, he didn't ever want my help.

And I know…he's been so used to taking care of her himself that it was difficult for him to accept assistance from anyone.

And knowing him, he also didn't want his problems to be a burden on me.

I'm not sure which previous girlfriend made such a mess of his head, but one of them had. At _least_ one. Maybe more because it was fairly firmly implanted in his brain that he needed to protect me from the unhappy side of his life.

He couldn't grasp the idea that since I loved him, I loved _all_ of him, not just the good stuff.

But I'm a patient person. And since I _did_ love him, I was willing to wait.

Because most of the time, he was the sweetest, most caring and giving man I've ever known.

And we had a lot of fun with our secret at work.

It was dangerous, I know.

But we'd give each other looks sometimes, behind Ross' back, or subtle touches that seemed innocuous to the untrained eye. And by the end of the work day, we'd barely be able to get home behind closed doors before tearing each other's clothes off.

Sometimes we'd go to his place and sometimes to mine, but almost every night we were together.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, his mother seemed to be at an all-time low. Her cancer treatment was adversely effecting her schizophrenia and she was taking out all of her hostility on Bobby.

"I'm sorry, Alex," he said that morning. "I need to go be with her. The doctor wants to try something new, and I…"

"It's fine," I assured him. "You can come by later, if you have time. I'll be at my sister's all day."

"Okay," he said, and I could tell that his mood was already slipping.

I pulled on my boots and got up from the bed, walking over to where he was buttoning up his shirt.

"And if you don't make it, we'll meet back here tonight," I suggested.

He brought his gaze to mine and then I watched him as his eyes tracked over me, taking note of my dress and my knee-high boots.

"You look…so beautiful. Who's going to be at this dinner again?"

"Just family," I said with a smile. "I dressed like this for you."

"Yeah?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around me. "Are you going to undress for me, too?"

"Tonight," I promised.

But of course, that's not how it worked out.

I'd only been at my sister's for a couple of hours when I got the call from Ross.

"Eames, I hate to interrupt your Thanksgiving, but I need you on this."

"That's fine," I answered. "But just let me work it. There's no need to call Goren in on this."

"You're going to work without a partner?"

"Let me start it, at least. No sense in ruining everyone's day."

"It's not that simple, Eames."

And then he told me who was missing.

"The deputy commissioner's daughter?" I repeated. Amanda Dockerty. And I felt for the girl, really I did, but why today of all days? "Okay. I'm on it."

There was no reason in the world for Ross to be so insistent on calling Bobby except that he _could_. He was still trying to exert his position as our boss and he butted heads with Bobby at every turn.

It was frustrating for me to watch and I knew it was driving Bobby crazy, but until Ross settled into Major Case and quit seeing Bobby as competition, it was probably going to keep happening.

I arrived at the deputy commissioner's home and it was packed full of heavy hitters. I was instantly annoyed at Ross for dragging Bobby into this three-ring circus when he knew about what was going on with his mother, but there wasn't much I could do about it, other than to try to be supportive of Bobby.

_"How's she doing?"_ I'd asked him when he called while en route.

_"She's mad as hell,"_ he replied. _"She thinks I'm abandoning her."_

_"I'm sure she understands the unpredictable nature of your job."_

_"Yeah, she understands,"_ he scoffed. _"The only thing she understands right now is that something else is more important to me than her."_

_"Let's just get through this and then maybe you can take some time off,"_ I suggested.

"_I'm sure Ross will love that."_

_"You have days coming to you. He doesn't have to like it."_

_"We'll see."_

After we spoke with the Dockerty's, Ross asked us to talk with Amanda's friend Trisha, the one who she'd been out with the night before.

Bobby's mom called three times between the Dockerty's home and Trisha's apartment, so we didn't get a chance to talk much about anything, but at one point, he did rest his hand on the back of my neck.

It was a small attempt at a connection, and I appreciated the effort.

At Trisha's apartment, he let me do all of the talking as we tried to backtrack over Amanda's night, and then he was quiet again as we went to the parking lot where Amanda's car was found.

It wasn't like him to be so disengaged with a case.

"Let me talk to Ross," I offered. "He's got plenty of brass working this thing. He doesn't need both of us."

"You don't have to pick up my slack, Eames."

"I'm trying to help you."

"You know what will help me? Quit treating me like I'm a breakdown waiting to happen, okay?"

I put the car in park and cut off the engine, biting my tongue to keep from responding to his remark.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Damn it, Alex, I don't mean to take this out on you. It's just…"

He trailed off and exhaled heavily.

"I'm trying to do the right thing, for you and for her," he said at last.

"So am I," I reminded him. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Ross was looking in our direction, so I reached for the door handle. "Come on."

"Eames…I'm sorry," he said again.

"I know."

The evidence in this case wasn't exactly making sense and the commissioner's attitude wasn't helping either. Ross was in full kiss-ass mode in an effort to keep him happy and then the discovery of Amanda's purse had us preparing for a full blown search of the surrounding woods.

Of course, that was when Bobby's phone rang.

Again.

I wanted to strangle his mother, but then I realized that this time it was the doctor.

"You're twenty minutes from Carmel Ridge," I said practically. "I'll cover for you."

That worked for three whole hours.

After one of Amanda's dress shoes was found in the woods, I went back to Trisha again. She told me the truth this time, or at least it seemed, and she mentioned that they'd gone to a club.

I called Bobby, just to fill him in on what I'd learned, and then of course Ross had to step in.

"Where is your partner?"

"He had to go to the hospital."

"I hope you mean the emergency room because only a life-threatening crisis should be taking him away from this case."

"You know his mother's sick," I stated in disbelief. "And believe it or not, I do know how to work a case without his help."

"Eames, it's not a question of competence," he replied as he pulled out his phone. "It's about responsibility."

"He has a responsibility to his mother!"

"And one to his job. He can visit his mother after we find Amanda."

I lingered for just a moment, listening to Ross ride Bobby about his absence.

"Captain," I admonished, shaking my head. "Give him another hour."

"Fine," he said stiffly, and then he spoke into the phone again. "One hour, Detective, and then I expect you here for the duration of this investigation."

He hung up and looked at me angrily.

"Are you happy, Eames?"

The man was unbelievable.

I shrugged him off and went to finish conducting our search of the woods, but after we found Amanda's dress, Ross reneged on his deal.

"Get your partner back here," he told me gruffly. "He's needed."

We spent the afternoon working the case, and then we reconvened at the Dockerty's home to question them a little further.

"Are you insinuating that she staged this so she could go AWOL?" the commissioner asked incredulously.

He was a real piece of work, too. I was beginning to see why he and the captain got along so well.

"Who cares?" his wife shouted at him. "Lee, I just want my daughter to come home safe."

"Amanda would not do that," he insisted.

I caught Bobby's eye and read his mind. What kind of man was more upset by the prospect of his daughter deserting than by the idea that she might be dead?

Bobby's phone rang again while we were in this awkward moment and he excused himself to answer it.

"This is your top man?" Dockerty said dubiously to Ross.

_Thank you for that, Captain_. Because I'm just here for my good looks, right?

I left the house, too, following Bobby outside.

He'd finished his phone call and was just standing with his back to the house.

"Are you okay?"

"She's crying," he said without turning around. "My mother was crying and telling me that she's all alone. I can't do this, Eames…"

"Go," I insisted. "It's almost dark. They'll be calling off the search. We'll pick this up tomorrow."

"Ross…" he said as he finally turned to look at me.

His face was filled with distress and worry and I just wanted to pull him into my arms. But standing on the front lawn of the deputy commissioner's house wasn't exactly the best place for that.

"I'll handle Ross," I said confidently, although I wasn't sure if I'd be able to. Ross seemed to have a hard-on for Bobby lately.

He reached his hand out between us, clearly wanting to touch me, but then he let it drop without making contact.

"And what about you?"

"I'm a big girl," I told him.

"We're okay?" he asked cautiously. "I know I've been…"

"We're fine. Go, before Ross comes out here looking for you."

He nodded and then started to turn away but he stopped and looked back at me.

"I love you, Alex," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

His sincerity nearly broke my heart and I wished desperately that I could go with him, that I could stand beside him during all of this.

But even if he wanted me, I wouldn't be able to leave this case.

And of course, he _didn't_ want me.

So instead, I had to stay and run interference. I told him that I loved him and sent him on his way.

He spent the night in his mother's room and I didn't see him again until the next morning when he got to 1PP.

I'd been awake most of the night worrying about him and waiting for him to call, but he didn't call me, not once.

"How about her bank account?" he asked as though he'd never left.

As though it had only been minutes since we spoke instead of more than twelve hours.

"How is she?" I asked him, ignoring his question for the moment.

Her, decompensating over night was the only reason I could think of for his extended silence.

"I'll have you out of here as soon as I can," Ross spoke up.

Earlier, I'd browbeat the captain into agreeing to sign off on some vacation time for Bobby. In fact, I'd threatened to take all of my accumulated time at once if he didn't approve Bobby's need for a few days. Of course, now he was going to act like it was his idea and that he was some kind of sympathetic boss, but whatever.

The time off was the important issue.

But Bobby barely acknowledged Ross' remark and instead continued discussing the case.

When Ross went back to his office, I tried to catch Bobby's eye. I needed him to say _something_, but he just looked away.

Why couldn't he talk to me about this?

Why was he working so hard to shut me out?

I'd promised myself that I'd be patient with him, but my patience was wearing thin. I was bending over backwards trying to make this difficult time as easy for him as possible, but I wasn't getting anything in return.

We interviewed Amanda's fiancé and then I decided to go down to the cafeteria for some coffee.

"Are you coming?" I asked Bobby.

"No, I need to follow up on what Carl told us," he said distractedly. "I just need to pull some information…"

"Come on," I encouraged. "Let's get some coffee and then I'll help you."

"Eames, the faster we find Amanda, the faster I can get out of here."

"Fine," I said sharply. I headed for the elevator, but he caught me before I could get on.

"That wasn't a blow off," he said in a hushed voice.

"No, but last night was."

"I had to stay…"

"I know you had to stay. I didn't expect you to come over, but a phone call would've been nice. Come on, Bobby. Throw me a bone here."

"I'm sorry," he said instantly.

"For what? For not even giving me a passing thought?" I asked in irritation.

"Eames…"

"Just forget it."

I moved to get onto the elevator, but he grabbed onto my elbow.

"You think I didn't think about you?"

"How would I know the answer to that?" I replied smartly.

I held his gaze for a long minute until over his shoulder, I could see Ross coming our direction. I pulled my arm away and stepped onto the elevator.

"Going down for coffee?" Ross asked as he got on next to me.

"Just a quick break," I told him.

"Goren?"

"No, I'm…I need to look at something. I'll be down in a bit."

The doors closed and Ross and I rode quietly down to the cafeteria.

I was torn between being mad at myself for putting more pressure on Bobby and being mad at him for ignoring me last night.

It was probably a little bit of both.

"Interesting interview with Carl," Ross remarked. I told him my thoughts on that, but my mind was elsewhere.

"Would you leave a guy like that at the altar?" Ross questioned as we sat down with our coffee.

"My husband Joe, he was a cop. He gave me a taser gun once for our anniversary. Sometimes you want to be more than your job."

"I take it Joe is an ex?"

"He died. Eight years ago."

"Sorry."

Bobby came up to the table and I almost felt guilty for having been talking about Joe.

Although why, I'm not sure.

It's not like I haven't discussed him with Bobby, but maybe it was because I'd given Joe some kind of importance by talking about him to Ross.

Or maybe it was just because I was thinking about Joe while I was pissed off at Bobby.

I had trouble making eye contact with him as he sat down to tell us what he'd found.

He seemed overly exuberant and I wasn't sure if he was trying to force a good mood to prove to me that everything was fine, or if he was just on an adrenaline high from going all night with no sleep.

Or _had_ he slept?

Did he sit up by his mother's bedside all night, or did he lay down on the couch in her room?

Was there even a couch in her room?

I had absolutely no idea and that ticked me off, too. I should know these things. He should tell me all about it.

Bobby's research gave us a lead, a guy named Wesley who had been in Amanda's platoon. He was currently an EMT, so we drove out to talk to him.

"Did you sleep?" I asked as we made the drive.

"Last night?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Why not?"

"She…wanted to talk."

"She was awake all night?"

"Sometimes when her medication is off she gets insomnia."

Which explained why he hadn't called me.

He'd never had a chance.

I glanced over at him and found him looking at me.

"You have every right to be upset with me."

"I'm…not," I said on a sigh. "I'm upset with the whole situation."

Without saying anything more, he reached his hand over the console and put it on my leg.

I put my hand on top of his and we went the rest of the way in quiet.

The interview with Wesley proved interesting, and then we learned that SID had been able to track Amanda's cell phone.

That took us to Willett's Point, the Iron Triangle, where we found Amanda's body dumped in a barrel.

I'd been holding out hope for a better outcome to this case.

It's never easy to make a notification to parents about the death of their child, even a grown child like Amanda.

The stress of the situation, added to Bobby's already thin hold on his professionalism, seemed to push him over the line.

"Captain, Dockerty didn't try to protect his daughter. His expectations pushed her into this," he said bitterly as we walked away from the scene.

I was surprised by his vehemence, even though I didn't completely disagree. While in the middle of explaining his position to Ross, his cell phone rang, but he only glanced at it without answering.

"Your brother?" I asked. I hoped that it was. I'd never met Frank, but maybe he would be someone who could help Bobby, since he so obviously didn't want anything from me.

And apparently, he didn't even want to talk about who was on the phone. He just snapped it closed and kept talking about the investigation.

Ultimately, we ended up searching the area for the metal shop where Wesley's uncle worked. We'd learned that Wesley had gone into hiding after we'd questioned him, which made him look guilty, so we were hoping to find some kind of connection between Wesley and the dump site.

We found it.

"B & B Engineering and Machinery will reopen on Monday," I said triumphantly after I called the number on the sign.

"Burkhartz and Burkhartz," he said and he actually smiled. Not a full smile, but definitely a hint of one.

It was more than I'd seen since yesterday morning.

We headed back for the car and he put his arm around me.

"I have to go back to see her tonight."

"I figured you would."

"I'll call you," he said firmly.

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I wanted to last night, it was just…"

We got in the car and I started up the engine so that I could turn on the heat and then I turned to look at him.

"You know, every time you start to tell me about her, you just stop," I pointed out.

"You don't need to hear it."

"Yes, I do," I argued, and suddenly my frustration from the past two day was bubbling to the forefront. "I do need to hear it so that I can better understand what you're going through."

"You want me to tell you how she lays in that bed and begs for Frank?" he asked roughly. "My worthless brother who's God knows where doing God knows what. Or how she cries every single time I leave the room? Is that what you want to hear? Will that make it easier for you to understand?"

"Maybe," I shouted back. "Yes. Yes it will. At least then I could have some idea..."

"You have _no_ idea," he interrupted, shaking his head.

"That's because you won't tell me!"

"Eames…"

And then his damn phone rang again.

He looked at me apologetically, but then he answered it anyway.

I silently fumed all the way back to his place where I dropped him off so that he could get his own car.

He talked to his mother during the entire drive. Or rather, he listened. She must have been on some kind of rant.

"Hold on, Ma," he said when I parked. Then he looked at me and said, "I'm sorry."

"You need to quit apologizing," I fired back. "Look at this from my perspective. What would you do if you were in my shoes?"

"If I were you, I'd leave me," he said quietly and then he got out of the car.

I wanted to scream in frustration.

In fact, I did. I said every curse word I could think of, at the top of my lungs, all the way to Rockaway.

Was he telling me to give up on him?

Never in a million years would I have guessed that I'd actually consider it.

Especially after only a few weeks.

But with the way things were going…I was making myself crazy.

I was chasing after a man who didn't appear to want to be caught.

And yeah, I had him in some ways.

But that wasn't enough for me. I wanted all of him.

And maybe it was time for me to face the possibility that _all_ wasn't something he was willing to give.

TBC...


	9. Chapter 9

**Alex POV**

* * *

><p>I spent a second sleepless night alone.<p>

I can't say Bobby didn't call me because he did.

But I didn't answer.

I wasn't in the mood to hear his apologies or his side-stepping around what was going on in his head.

It scared me to think that I was nearly ready to end it with him.

And more than that, it made me furious.

Why was he doing this?

Why was he shoving this wedge between us?

I didn't think I was asking for too much.

If he loved me, then he should be able to talk to me.

_In his mind, he's not talking _because_ he loves me_, I reminded myself. He had some warped sense of protectiveness that I hadn't been able to break through.

I listened to the message that he'd left on my voice mail.

"It's me," he said tiredly. "I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you…that I'm _always_ thinking about you. And I…well, that's it. I'll see you tomorrow."

That was it.

Although, I'd specifically told him to quit apologizing, so at least he was respecting my wishes.

And he said that he was thinking about me.

But was he only calling because I'd gotten mad at him for not doing it last night? Or was it truly because he was thinking about me?

I kicked off the blankets and huffed out an annoyed breath.

And why was it that I couldn't seem to sleep without him next to me?

He took up a lot of room and he hogged the blankets and he generated so much body heat.

_And he was so sweet and affectionate and he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of me._

I sighed again and got up from the bed.

I spent the rest of the night on the sofa, but by morning, I was no closer to making up my mind about what to do.

So I procrastinated.

I went in to work, determined to focus only on the case.

Bobby and I would sort ourselves out later.

I ran into him in the lobby at 1PP.

"I called you last night," he said as we went up in the elevator.

"I know."

"Eames…"

"Let's just finish this case, okay? Then you can take some time and be with your mom."

"And you can decide what you're going to do? About us?"

"I don't know. Maybe," I admitted, unable to maintain eye contact.

_Just talk to me_, I wanted to yell.

But I didn't.

I continued to studiously ignore him until we got to the eleventh floor and then he hustled off the elevator without looking back.

We met with Ross and started bringing him up to speed, but midway through the recap, Bobby got a phone call. He took it in the conference room, leaving me to finish the update.

After nearly half an hour, he met me in the hall.

"My mother," he said in explanation as we headed for the A/V room. We had Ashton waiting there so that we could show him that we knew he'd lied about the night Amanda had gone missing. "She acts like I haven't been spending every free minute with her."

"Now you want to share?" I asked sharply.

And it wasn't fair of me, I know.

But I was hurting and so I lashed out.

"You're right," he agreed defeatedly. "You don't need this. You don't need any of this."

I felt like I was going to be sick.

We talked to Ashton, but my mind was half on Bobby.

We were so off and he had to be so tired and why in the world had I cut him off when he'd finally tried to open up to me?

He took out some of his frustration on Ashton, mocking him for talking about having each other's back.

I couldn't help but feel it was a direct shot at me.

_Wasn't I supposed to have his back?_

And yet when he needed me…like now…I was snapping at him and thinking of myself first.

"There's more to this," Bobby said quietly after we took Ashton back to an interrogation room.

At first I wasn't sure if he meant us or the case, but then he continued.

"Something happened over there."

As usual, he was right.

We uncovered a scandal that Amanda's squad had been trying to cover up. Payback on Iraqi insurgents.

I listened while Bobby talked about it with Carl. I watched as Carl broke down, saying that he'd let Amanda down and I couldn't help but see the empathy on Bobby's face.

That's how he felt about his mother. He was letting her down.

This case had personal undertones everywhere and it was only making it harder on him.

_I_ was making it harder on him.

He was encroaching on a meltdown by the time we met with Ross and the commissioner in Ross' office.

"Maybe you should console him, Commissioner. He was almost your son-in-law," Bobby said, almost poking at Dockerty as he stared at Carl through the office windows.

I had the sense that I was getting ready to watch a train wreck.

I stood helplessly by as Bobby kept pushing, until the commissioner decided that he'd had enough.

"What do you know about my daughter? Or about what kind of father I am?" Dockerty yelled.

"Well, as little as you know about who I am," Bobby muttered as he left the office.

"Detective, you're out of line," Ross called out.

Yeah, like that was going to do any good.

This, right here, was exactly why I'd nearly begged Ross two days ago to leave Bobby off this case.

He was an explosion waiting to happen.

I watched as he went to his desk, picking up his binder and then hesitating briefly before swiping everything to the floor.

What was wrong with him?

_Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was giving him the cold shoulder after I promised to be supportive_, my inner voice said.

I'd given him hope of having a healthy relationship and at the first sign of trouble, I'd jumped ship.

_But it was because of him that I was backing off_, I argued internally.

We had to sort this out. And soon, before I developed multiple personalities because there were already too many voices inside of my head.

I shrugged off my thoughts of Bobby and once again focused on the case.

Hopefully, if I could redirect the commissioner back to the case as well, then there might not be serious repercussions for Bobby's temper tantrum.

It seemed to work, especially since Ross got the word that Wesley had been picked up and was currently en route to 1PP.

Since there was a lull in activity, I took the opportunity to see if I could catch up to Bobby. I found him near the elevator.

"What the hell was that, Bobby?" I asked. My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I was just so damn frustrated with the whole thing. "You want to throw it all away? Just, I know…"

"Back off," he said without looking at me.

Back off?

The words felt like a slap in the face.

He may as well have said _fuck off_ considering his body language.

He got onto the elevator, his gaze trained on the floor, but I stood rooted to the spot.

And hell, I wasn't even sure what we were talking about here.

Personal…professional…everything.

Just before the doors closed, he briefly looked up at me. He almost looked like he'd been waiting for the full assault, expecting me to read him the riot act, but I just let him go.

I couldn't keep chasing him.

And I couldn't keep protecting him from himself.

Again, I felt physically sick as I went back to my desk.

This was _not_ how this was supposed to go.

Whoever said that love conquered all needed to be summarily shot for filling people's heads with a line of crap.

I worked at my desk until I got the word that Wesley had arrived. I spent an annoying hour with him in an interrogation room where he simply repeated his vital statistics and then Dockerty came in and requested to have him put in a holding cell.

I knew what that meant.

He was going to try to intimidate him.

His maneuver pissed me off because if Bobby tried something like that, Ross would have his ass and yet the commissioner seemed to have no problem with doing it himself.

And here I was again…being protective of Bobby.

While I waited in Ross' office for Dockerty to finish his strong-arm technique, Bobby came back.

I don't know where he'd been because he hadn't been gone long enough to have driven to Carmel Ridge and back, but I was instantly annoyed with myself for the fact that nerves fluttered through me when I saw him.

How was it that I could be so mad at him and yet still be excited by the sight of him?

"Did you have time to cool off?" Ross asked him when he came in the office.

Bobby nodded, looking everywhere but at me, and then Dockerty came in to tell us that his plan had failed.

But that didn't make Wesley less guilty. It just meant that we needed to figure out a way to get him to admit to it.

We talked about it briefly in Ross' office, and then Bobby and I left, although I walked ahead of him, not looking back.

"It's hard to get a confession from him if he's capable of guilt," he said in that hesitant voice of his.

He was trying to make amends, I could tell, but I wasn't going to do this now.

Not here.

Our issues at the moment had nothing to do with work and so this wasn't the place.

Besides, I was still pissed off. At him, at myself...just pissed off in general.

"Maybe we should tell him he's got nothing to feel guilty about?" he added questioningly.

"You do that," I said as I walked away from him.

I went down the hall and into the ladies' room where I took a moment just to breathe.

I'd never had times like this with Joe.

He was always steady and even-keeled and personable.

_But I also never had passion with Joe_, I reminded myself. Not like I had with Bobby.

And it was the natural order of things that the greater the high, the greater the low.

My marriage with Joe had been like a Sunday drive in the country.

Pleasant. Consistent, with few surprises.

My three weeks with Bobby had been an expedition into the Amazon.

Exciting. Unpredictable. And most definitely hot.

So I suppose the only question was were the highs worth the lows.

I ran my fingers through my hair and checked my look in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.

I don't know why it surprised me to find Bobby right outside the door.

"I know you're mad at me," he said quietly. "But can we table that while we get this guy?"

I sighed and brought my eyes to his.

I'd wanted to avoid looking directly at him because it always put that feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I looked and as expected, there came the feeling.

That one that makes me want to smile at him even when I'm mad. The one that makes me want to run my fingers through his unruly hair or stroke my hand over his scruffy cheek.

But even though I looked and the feeling came, I held back all of my other responses.

Instead I gave him a nod.

"Okay," I agreed. "Do you have an idea about how to get him to confess? I spent an hour with him and all I know is where he lives and his date of birth."

"Follow my lead," he said as he started towards the interrogation room. I fell into step beside him, but his phone rang before he could say anything more.

He answered it and spoke briefly.

"I know, Ma," he said in a strained voice. "As soon as I can."

He hung up and stuck his phone back in his pocket.

And I wasn't going to ask, but he glanced at me and his face was clouded over and I couldn't stop myself.

"Is everything…"

"It's fine," he snapped. We were right outside of the interrogation room and he paused and took a deep breath and added, "Just use your anger in here. It'll work for us."

So I did. And it worked.

We got Wesley to confess, and then a uniform came in and led him away.

I closed the file and left without saying a word.

I waited outside the room, planning to offer to take care of the paperwork for Bobby. Just because I was mad at him didn't mean I couldn't cut him a break so that he could get back to his mother.

But right as he came out, Ross called out, "Good job, Detectives. You can give me your paperwork before…"

"Yeah, save it, alright? I'm leaving," Bobby said as he walked away. "You want to fire me, fire me. I don't care."

I watched him until he turned the corner, heading for the elevator.

"Eames, your partner…" Ross began.

"Had no business being on this case," I finished, unleashing some of my mood on him. "I told you that from the beginning."

"Yes, you did, but he's a Major Case detective. He can't pick and choose his own hours."

"You could've taken his personal situation into account," I fired back. "This is exactly what you were hoping would happen, isn't it? You haven't wanted him in this department from day one. That's why you keep pushing him. You were waiting for him to snap. Well, congratulations, Captain. You got your wish."

I left Ross standing slack-jawed in the hallway.

I went to my desk and grabbed my coat and then reached over and picked up Bobby's binder that he'd tossed onto his desk. It was vital to him and he never left it behind so it worried me that he'd done so this time.

"You're wrong, Eames," Ross said, coming up behind me. "I didn't want this."

"You could've fooled me, Captain."

"Look, it's been a difficult case during what should've been a holiday weekend. I signed off on Goren's vacation time. You take a few days yourself, okay? Come back fresh mid-week."

I stared at him for a moment, and even through my hostility, I recognized the fact that he was cutting me some slack. My words were cause for reprimand and yet he'd taken them in stride. Maybe he wasn't such a complete ass after all.

"Okay," I agreed with a nod. "Wednesday."

I left 1PP and headed for home.

My head was a mess.

Normally when I felt like this, I'd call Bobby.

But now I was a mess _because_ of him and I was pretty sure that we weren't going to be doing any talking any time soon.

He was probably half way to Carmel Ridge by now.

By the time I got home, I'd decided that I would order a pizza and drink a bottle of wine and then go to bed. I'd had two nights in a row with no sleep so I was going to get some rest tonight even if it was alcohol-induced.

I got out of my car and grabbed my things, including Bobby's binder, and went up the front walk.

"You know, I warned you."

I looked up in surprise to find Bobby sitting on my steps.

I stopped walking and instead just looked at him.

"I told you that I'd screw this up," he added.

"That's what you're going with?" I responded, ignoring the fact that my stomach was doing somersaults. "I told you so?"

He stood up and came down the steps, coming to a stop right in front of me.

I mentally chastised myself for the way my heart started pounding just from his proximity.

"I let this thing go off the track somewhere, Alex," he said with no small amount of regret. He reached his hand out and touched my cheek. "I felt like I was being pulled in so many different directions and I…I forgot the most important thing of all."

"Which is what?"

"That I need you and I love you. Without you, everything else just falls apart."

I sighed and leaned into his palm slightly.

I wasn't over being mad, but I also wasn't going to turn him away if he wanted to talk.

We'd been needing to do this for two days.

"What about your mother?" I asked. "She's expecting you."

"I called her and told her that I'd be up in the morning," he answered as he brought his other hand up to my cheek as well.

"You didn't have to do that. I'm not trying to compete or take you away from…"

"I want us to spend some time together," he interrupted.

"I thought you wanted me to back off."

He closed his eyes and have me a repentant half-smile.

"I just…"

"Let's go inside," I said softly.

"And talk," he added as he leaned down to kiss me.

I wanted to drop everything and put my arms around him, but instead I stood still as he put every ounce of passion into that kiss.

"You're trying to butter me up," I accused lightly when he stepped away and took my things from my hands.

"Is it working?"

"You're going to have to do more than that."

Although I was so glad that he was here.

I didn't want to end things with him. I loved him too much for that.

But we also needed to sort this out so that we could hopefully avoid another similar situation.

"I guess I really did screw this up, huh?"

"Yes," I agreed as I unlocked the door. "But it's reparable."

"Are you sure? Earlier you said that maybe…"

"Earlier we both said a lot of things, so maybe we need to start the conversation over."

We went inside and he tossed my things on the table before pulling me into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know you banned that word, but I need to say it. I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark. I just…I didn't want you to know what she's become."

"But look at what it's doing to us," I pointed out.

"I know. It ends right now."

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

**Bobby POV**

* * *

><p>"Let me get changed and then we'll go for a walk," she told me.<p>

I raised a questioning eyebrow at her, considering that it was fairly chilly outside. I'd been on her steps for half an hour before she got home and my butt was numb.

"If we're out in public, then I won't be tempted to let you off the hook," she explained. "If we're sitting on the couch, I'm liable to jump you."

"I think maybe staying on the couch is a good idea," I countered, unable to stop the slow smile. "You know, if jumping me is what you really want to do…"

"I want to talk things through," she said firmly as she headed down the hall. Then she cast a glance back over her shoulder and added, "And then I'll jump you."

I felt a tremendous amount of relief from the prospect that she had plans to forgive me.

I wasn't sure if I deserved her forgiveness.

Hell, I was pretty sure that I didn't deserve her at all, but I was addicted now.

I had to have her and I was going to do whatever was necessary to make things right between us.

These past couple of days had been a nightmare. Admittedly, mostly of my own doing, but still…things needed to change.

Five minutes later, Alex came back into the foyer, dressed in jeans and tennis shoes and a thick sweater. She grabbed a coat from the closet and slipped it on before looking at me expectantly.

"Ready?"

Then her eyes tracked over me briefly before she turned to open up the closet again and this time she pulled out one of my heavy coats.

"I was wondering where that was," I commented as I pulled it on over my flannel shirt.

"All you had to do was ask," she stated.

And boy, wasn't that the crux of all of our issues?

She was willing to give me anything, offer me anything…all I had to do was open my mouth.

I didn't respond, but instead took her by the hand and led the way out the front door.

We went nearly two blocks before it occurred to me that she was waiting for me.

Because I was the one who needed to talk.

I was the one who'd walked out on her in the office today. I was the one who'd nearly bit her head off when she tried to help me.

"I never meant to drag you into this," I began.

"Drag me into what?" she questioned.

"This whole…mess that is my life. That's why I said what I said last night."

"That if you were me, you'd leave," she said carefully.

"Right."

She stopped walking and I turned to look at her, surprised by the anger on her face.

"That is the biggest line of crap, Bobby. _Drag_ me into this? You say that like I didn't have any choice in the matter. I'm in it because I _want_ to be in it. And it's only such a mess because that's what you've made it."

"I've made it?" I repeated.

"That's right. I'm sorry that your mother is sick. And I'm sorry that your brother is nowhere to be found so that you're stuck doing everything for her, but Bobby…you're not alone. The fact that you think you are makes me wonder about your feelings for me."

I was so taken aback by her verbal onslaught that I was struggling to keep up.

But I was getting there.

"You're questioning my feelings for you? I love you. That's not in question."

"Then why are you so insistent on doing this on your own?"

"I'm trying to protect you," I fired back. "You don't need that in your life."

"I need _you_ in my life. And everything that comes along with you," she said, and now she was practically yelling. "And to say things like that…that I should leave you, or that you dragged me into something…it really pisses me off."

"I can see that."

"I'm serious. It's just an excuse for you to feel sorry for yourself. Not only that, but you're not giving me any credit at all. You think I don't understand about your mother's illness? You think that my life has been so perfect that I've never had to deal with anything that was frustrating or that made me feel powerless? How do you think I've felt the past two days?"

"Frustrated…and powerless," I conceded.

"Exactly," she replied. She stared at me for a minute longer and then turned and began walking again.

I don't think she expected me to see her point so quickly, but I did and now was certainly not the time for pride.

But it also wasn't the time to just blindly agree to everything.

I had to tell her how I'd been feeling, too.

"I told you to back off because I was close to losing it," I said quietly. "All of my emotions were so near the surface that I was afraid if I even looked at you, I was going to break down. And maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad thing if we were at home, but not at 1PP."

"I can understand that."

"Are you sure? Because you still seemed pretty angry with me when I got back."

"I was," she admitted. "And maybe I shouldn't have kept pushing, but I felt like I was losing you altogether."

"You're the one who said you needed to think about things," I reminded her.

"And I did. I couldn't keep chasing after you," she responded and then she stopped again and looked up at me. "I _can't_ keep chasing you. I can't make you want something that doesn't work for you."

"It _does_ work for me," I countered. "I mean you…you're just…you _definitely_ work for me. When I said that you should leave me…I didn't…"

I stopped talking and exhaled heavily as I thought about the right words to say. I seemed to be having a difficult time articulating my feelings.

"I just…I didn't want you to feel some kind of obligation," I said at last. "And I didn't want you to think that I'd be mad at you if you called it quits. I wanted to give you an out because I knew that I wasn't making you happy."

Her gaze softened and she let go of my hand so that she could wrap her arms around me.

"You make me happy. Most of the time, you make me very happy," she said. "So quit thinking about giving me an out. All I'm asking is for you to tell me what's on your mind. And I don't mean twenty four-seven. That would just be exhausting," she said and her tone was slightly teasing.

She released her hold on me and pulled back a little so that she could look at me. She had a small smile on her face as she reached up and grabbed onto the lapels of my jacket.

"But sometimes," she continued. "And especially when you're upset. Because even if I never go to meet your mother in person, I can still share your burden. And if you hate our boss or you want to punch our victim's father…you can share that with me, too. It's not good for you to keep it inside and it's not good for _us_ either, okay?"

My first instinct was to agree without thought.

_Yes, Alex, I'll do absolutely anything you say as long as you keep looking at me with love in your eyes_.

My second was to argue.

_Why should I burden you with my troubles? Being my partner is surely enough of a burden…why should I make it worse by cluing you in on my innermost thoughts?_

My third response…that was what I went with.

Because doing what she was suggesting wasn't going to come easy for me. It went against everything I'd trained myself to do over the course of the past several decades.

But it was still what I _wanted_.

Because I really wanted her and I wanted this to work.

"I promise to try," I said. "But I've been doing it my way for a long time."

"Your way isn't working," she reminded me lightly. "Maybe it worked okay when it was just you, but it's not just you anymore."

"I know. And trust me, I'm really glad for that," I said.

And then, public sidewalk be damned, I leaned down and kissed her.

It was brief and fairly chaste, but I needed the connection.

And she just looked so pretty with her nose red from the cold and her hair all windblown…it was too hard to resist. I'd been resisting my urges enough around her. I wasn't going to do it anymore.

She smiled at me when I pulled away and then she picked up my hand and we started walking again, this time back towards her place.

"She's just scared," I began. "Cancer is scary enough, but she's got paranoid delusions that stem from the schizophrenia…she thinks the doctors and nurses are trying to kill her."

And it was like opening the flood gate.

Maybe the hard part was just getting started because once I started talking, I couldn't stop. I told her about the treatment options and about her mood swings and…just everything.

By the time I ran out of things to say, it was well after midnight. We'd been sitting on the couch for several hours, after returning from our walk.

"I realized today that I'm letting her send me on guilt trips. It's gotten out of control. She calls and I just drop everything. Or I resent everything that prevents me from going to her."

"She's your mother," she replied in understanding.

Her voice sounded sleepy and I wondered if she'd been awake as much as I had over the past two nights. Probably.

"But I have a life, too," I said as I ran my fingers through her hair. "So when I called her…after I left work…I told her that it had to stop. I'll do my best to see her every day or every other day, but the constant phone calls had to stop."

"How did she take it?"

"Not well at first. She accused me of not loving her and then she cried…"

"Bobby…"

"No, it's okay. She understands. It was actually one of the best conversations we'd had in a long time."

"So you're two for two tonight."

"Yeah," I agreed. "You were right. It's definitely helped to talk about it."

"You never should've doubted me in the first place," she replied playfully.

She kissed me lightly on the cheek and then went to do it again but I turned my head at the last second, catching her on the lips. I tightened my grip on her, bringing her closer to me as I deepened the kiss, turning her innocent display of affection into something much more sensual.

"Is it time for you to jump me yet?" I asked her between kisses.

"I was thinking about it."

"Thinking is overrated. How about some action, Detective?"

She pulled back from me and held my gaze.

"You feel better, don't you?" she said with a smile. "You already look years younger than you did when you left the office."

"I almost forgot about that. Should I even ask what happened after I left today? Do you think I'm fired?"

"I yelled at Ross. I told him that he was a jerk for making you work that case."

"So are we both fired?" I asked, strangely pleased to hear that she'd taken up for me at the risk of her own career. Not that I wanted her to get fired or anything, but…I was _that_ important to her. It was blowing my mind.

"No," she said as she leaned in to kiss me again. "We got vacation time. We're off until Wednesday."

"Wednesday, huh? What are we going to do with three whole days?"

"Well," she said as she moved to sit on my lap. She settled firmly against me and then wrapped her arms around my neck. "I thought maybe we could play truth or dare."

"Really," I stated with interest.

"I'll start. You want to know a truth?"

"I don't know. I can think of a couple of dares," I countered as I slid my hands beneath her sweater. I could think of all kinds of things that I wanted to do to her, but I wasn't going to pass up the offer of her baring her soul. "But yeah, start with a truth."

"I was so relieved to see you on my doorstep tonight. It really means a lot that you cared enough to come to me."

Her sudden foray into the serious caught me off guard and so did the tears that filled her eyes.

I'd really hurt her. I hadn't realized just how much until this moment.

All this time I'd been thinking she should just walk away, but for me to suggest that it would be that simple was diminishing her feelings for me. Because I could never just walk away from her, so how could I ever think that it would be any easier for her?

She kissed me, pre-empting anything that I might have thought to say. It was her way of telling me that she didn't need a response. She just needed me to hear the words.

We let the kiss go on for several minutes as I slid my hands over her back, beneath the heavy wool of her sweater.

I'd missed this so much…the connection with someone who so completely understood me.

She finally pulled back, slightly breathless and disheveled and more beautiful than ever.

She gave me a challenging look and said, "Now about that dare..."

**THE END**


End file.
